


conquest of spaces

by dustywords



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, a try to make it better than the show, sort of a neverland rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 65,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1480696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustywords/pseuds/dustywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Hook's help, Emma, Regina and the two idiots find a way to Neverland, the realm Henry was kidnapped to. Nothing is like it seems on that island, though, and not only Emma has to discover that things aren't always what they look like and that sometimes the true villain is a disembodied shadow behind the face of a boy named Peter Pan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my attempt to change the neverland arc the show managed to destroy in the worst ways possible. i couldn't eliminate every plot hole, because i had to work with what canon offered me in the second half of season 2. my apologies. i hope you will still like the story! (also, please admire the art below that was made for this story!)
> 
>   
> **Art by** [letoutthecrazy](http://letoutthecrazy.tumblr.com).  
>   
> [More art](http://s1148.photobucket.com/user/swanqueenbigbang/library/Conquest%20Of%20Spaces)  
> 
> 
> a big shout out to kirkmills, who always joined me in my last-minute-anxieties before the deadlines. you are the Cristina to my Cristina, the positive window when i lose my shoe. thank you. 

She feels like she needs to take a deep breath. But there is not enough air in Storybrooke for that intake of breath Emma Swan’s lungs long for, nor has she enough time for it.

 _Henry_. 

He is not here. 

She doesn’t even know where he is and it’s just too much for her brain to cope with. Everything right now is simply too much. 

Somehow she ended up at Regina’s mansion, getting a backpack pressed into her trembling hands and a soft “we need provisions” before the brunette disappeared with tense shoulders upstairs. 

That was ten minutes ago. The backpack is now filled with crackers, four small bottles of water, some apples (yeah, she’s almost sure that her parents won’t eat them but there is no time to care about old feuds and hate and revenge because _Henry_ ), some bread and carrots. The lack of food in Regina’s neatly kept kitchen makes her sad. It means that the former Evil Queen conjured her meals or the supplies for them with magic. No wonder. Half of the town still was convinced that Archie’s faked murder (and the murder of the fisher Bob that was shortly after Cora’s death discovered) was a scheme to take over the control of Storybrooke. 

Stupid little sleepy town of Maine. 

She grits her teeth and almost misses the careful footsteps behind her. “Are you ready?” 

Regina changed into more comfortable clothes and a part of her wishes she went together with her parents to the apartment to pack her bag and get changed or something like that. But the time is running and also she didn’t want to deal with her parents’ well-meant yet misplaced encouragements. In the end, words don’t change a thing.

Actions do. 

That’s why she’s in that kitchen. 

Looking at the most terrifying version of Regina’s endless sadness in her dark, dark eyes. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

“I had no time to do groceries or—” 

“It’s okay, really,” she soothes her and even touches her shoulder before going in the hallway with the backpack shouldered. She puts her boots on, checks her mobile phone for possible missed calls from Snow or David and feels Regina’s eyes on her back. 

She catches her staring at her with an odd expression in her eyes. 

“You okay?” Surely stopping a powerful trigger like that for the better part of the whole affair on your own has to take its toll on you. Emma feels drained and tired and so damn weak in her knees every time she thinks about the trigger and the mines and Regina that she wonders how the hell the woman in front of her keeps standing proudly with both feet planted to the ground. 

“Do you expect an answer to that, Miss Swan?” 

Ah, fuck. 

Sometimes she’s really that dumb idiot Regina secretly (or not so secretly, thinking back to all the horrible stuff she’d said to Emma shortly after her arrival in Storybrooke) believes her to be. Just like now. 

Of course she’s not okay. Henry is god knows where and she almost sacrificed herself for people who sometimes don’t even bother to use her name but that fucking _title_. Emma clenches and unclenches her fist. “Okay, I meant if you’re doing okay or if you … you know what, forget that I asked. Just … let’s go.” 

“After you, Miss Swan.” 

# 

They meet at the docks. Emma can’t stop glancing sideways at Regina who hasn’t said a word since they left the white mansion behind them. She simply carries her duffel bag with her, and judging by how full it is Emma highly suspects that Regina was the only one to think about Henry and his need for fresh clothes once they find him. 

It’s such a … mom thing to do. 

Emma is jealous. She only keeps thinking about what to do to those two bastards who kidnapped her son. She can’t stop imagining how easy it will be to snap their necks with all the rage in her thoughts. She knows that Snow would be scandalized if she knew but then again her mom would have no right to react like that, not after what she’s sentenced Regina to do to her own mother, evil or not. 

A child should never kill his own parent. Never. 

She sighs and nods at her parents. Both look determined and strong with their entwined hands and matching backpacks. David already attached his sword with the scabbard to his belt, while Snow carries her quiver on her back next to her backpack and her bow. She remembers that appearance of her from their days in the Enchanted Forest. “We have packed some clothes for you,” Snow tells her with a sad little smile. 

She only nods and then there are steps behind them. Uneven steps and the tapping of a cane. Emma doesn’t need to turn around to know that Gold arrived as well, but she does anyway because this way she escapes the dark eyes that seemed to be glued to her since they left this spot here, after Henry … after he vanished in that portal together with the two lunatics.

“The Savior, the Evil Queen and the infamous Snow White and her Prince Charming teaming up to save a boy. An interesting addition to the already existing fairy tales, wouldn’t you agree?” He gives them a thin smile but it lacks the confidence, the mockery she’s used from him. 

He’s grieving. 

Emma flinches involuntarily. He lost his son, too. The difference here is that there is no hope that Neal has survived. He was shot before he got sucked into that portal. Emma clears her throat. “What are you doing here?” 

“I am merely here to give you some … let’s call them gifts, shall we?” He lifts an eyebrow and glances at each of them. 

She looks at his hands, which are empty besides the cane he’s holding. 

“Gifts?” Snow sounds as confused as Emma feels. 

Gold nods. “Yes. And not just any trinkets, as you might think at first.” He takes a small, metal box out of the inner pocket of his jacket. It has cog wheels on almost every quadratic surface of it. Only one is covered with one big red stone. He hands it to Regina. “It should look familiar to you.” 

“Pandora’s box,” Regina whispers in something that can only be described as awe. “I didn’t know it really existed. How come that you have it?” The _who did you kill for it_ remains unsaid, but Emma can hear it through Regina’s voice nonetheless. It should worry her that she gets this evil queen labeled woman so well. 

Gold leans onto his cane. “You might remember our mutual friend, Jefferson.” 

“He’s not my friend.” 

“Well, he was a portal jumper as you might very well remember and he got me many objects of high value. Pandora’s box is one of them.” 

Emma frowns at that, coming closer. “And what the hell is that box doing?” 

“Let’s just say that it can trap a certain kind of darkness within its small yet powerful walls.” 

“Like … a Pokéball?” 

“Pardon, a what?” 

Regina only rolls with her eyes while Gold looks irritated at her. “Don’t listen to that idiot. You better explain why you are giving me this,” she hisses. 

He nods. “Wherever you are going, the shadows will follow you. You better be prepared when the time is right.” 

“Stop with the cryptic messages, Rumpel, this is not one of your lessons.” 

“Oh, but it is. You’ll see. Better remember my words then, dearie. Now to you, Charming Family.” He turns to her and her parents. “My gift to you is an advice.” 

“You’re kidding,” Emma says and looks at Snow and David, who glance at each other and then back at her. “He’s kidding, right?” 

Gold clears his throat. “I am quite serious, Miss Swan. Do you have any idea what dangers await you in Neverland?” 

They all stare at him. 

Regina is the first one to break the silence. “Neverland? They took him to Neverland? How do you—”

“I listen, your Majesty, and Neverland makes sense to me. Owen’s business seems to be connected with darkness and magic. Both can be found there. Or did you honestly believe that he would let go of his ill-advised plans to kill you and destroy our precious little town?” 

“But why do they need Henry?” Emma is confused and filled with unease after seeing the sudden change of Regina’s posture. She seems so small, defeated. She knows that Neverland will probably be a fucked up version of the Disney version. Nothing ever is like the Disney version. (Except for Aurora, maybe. Geez, what a _princess_.) What worries her the most is the question, how they get to that realm.

There are no beans left. 

The last bean was used to take Henry away from them. 

Although, she highly suspects that one bean disappeared into one of Hook’s pockets. 

Rumpel waves with his cane towards the water. “They had no chance to get what they wanted in Storybrooke. Henry is their pledge that the Evil Queen will come to them.” 

Regina makes a little, unsatisfied noise. 

Emma sighs. David touches her shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll find a way. We always do in the end.”

The death glare he receives from Regina is impressive. 

Emma only nods, too distracted by the dark circles around Regina’s eyes to say anything. That woman needs to catch some sleep, she decides. But there is no time. There is no fucking time for anything. Her heart is racing and this feels a lot like a panic attack, which she doesn’t have time for. No matter what, they don’t really know if they can find a way to Neverland and even if they do, when will that be? Will Henry still be alive? 

She breathes slowly in and out and it helps a bit. “What do you suggest, Gold? Surely you know how to get there.”

Gold smiles faintly. “I do. All you need to do is to look behind you, Miss Swan, and all your questions will be answered.” 

They all turn around and at first, she doesn’t know what he’s referring to but then she sees it; the ship in the distance, coming closer. Hook’s ship. That filthy pirate. She grits her teeth and clenches her hand into a fist. “That bloody bastard,” she whispers dangerously low and the warm hand of David squeezes her shoulder.

“There has to be a reason for him to come back,” Snow tries. 

“Perhaps he’s all out of rum,” Emma guesses darkly and she can hear the low rumble in Regina’s chest. It fills her with surprise and delight, because yeah, it’s shitty timing and maybe not the best moment to crack some stupid jokes about pirates and their alcohol problem, but it somehow comforts her. 

Even if Snow shakes disapprovingly with her head. “We need to hear him out, Emma. Maybe Rumpelstiltskin is right and he can take us to Neverland.” 

“And what will you do while we’re gone, dear Rumpel?” asks Regina, completely ignoring Snow’s not-so-helpful comment about forgiveness that is totally misplaced here. Hook is in his own way responsible for the whole mess. “Dusting off your shelves in your shop?”

“Keeping an eye or two on your little town. Belle asked me to stay,” he adds and his eyes grow soft when he mentions her name. True Love. It’s kinda weird to witness that on Gold. It makes her wonder how he managed to get a chance at that while being so vile and shady all the time. But maybe that’s the point, she muses. The whole concept of good and evil her parents (and Henry) believe in doesn’t exist. That’s why people like Rumpelstiltskin still can find their True Love. 

Regina crosses her arms, the box still in her right hand. “And why should I trust you?” 

“You have no choice, do you? You have my word, your Majesty, I won’t do anything to undermine your influence as the mayor in this town. Perhaps you can regard me as some sort of guard of the town. I will try to close the borders of the town again so no stranger can find us. It’s for the best, especially if we look back on the latest events caused by the two outsiders that barged into this town.”

Emma keeps her mouth shut that one of these outsiders was invited by his own dead son. 

Regina averts her gaze and stares at the approaching ship in the distance. “Fine. Do what you must.” 

“Very well. Now back to my advice for you: Don’t lose hope. Don’t fall for the tricks of that boy called Peter Pan. Don’t allow that island to change you. Trust each other.” He nods at them. “The best of luck,” he wishes them and then he vanishes in a thick dark red cloud of magic. 

She’ll punch him for this stupid cryptic advice when they come back. 

# 

 _It’s too warm_. 

Henry blinks and groans. His left shoulder hurts and rays of sunlight shine through the thick jungle canopy on his face. 

“You’re finally awake. Good. Now move it, boy.” Greg’s voice is filled with impatience and anger. Henry slowly sits up. His throat is dry as a desert and he desperately wants a sip of water.

Where the hell did they end up? Is this the Enchanted Forest? But Emma and Snow never mentioned the humid and sticky air, the tropical heat that is surrounding them. Before he can think any longer about that, a dark hand clutches at his left arm and helps him to get to his feet. Tamara’s eyes are not unfriendly. She’s watching him closely and he knows that she is the lesser evil. 

Greg is unpredictable. Like a ticking bomb. 

“Come on, Henry. Here,” she says, holding out a bottle of water.

He looks at her questioningly. “Is it … ?” 

“Poisoned?” she finishes his question and smiles at him. It’s condescending and doesn’t reach her dark eyes. “Don’t be silly, boy. Why would we try to kill you like _that_ when we waited 15 minutes for you to recover and regain your consciousness?” 

“We’re not like her, okay?” Greg adds with a sneer. 

It’s clear who he is referring to. 

Henry empties half of the bottle and wants to hand it back, but Tamara shakes her head. “Keep it.” Then they follow Greg’s lead. He’s holding an old map in his hand, muttering nonsense under his breath and Tamara tries to talk to him, but he brushes her rudely off, telling her that this time he’s going to do the things “the right way”. 

“I could’ve killed her. But no, we had to do it your way.” 

“You came to me for help all those years ago,” she reminds him with a frown and Henry only can stare at them. A fight is about to unfold in front of his eyes. “Without me you still wouldn’t know where to look for your father, where that rotten town of fairy tale characters is.” 

Greg makes an enraged sound and throws his hands in the air. “I know that. Still, I was the one who introduced you to the Home Office. Never forget that.” 

“What is wrong with you?” Tamara steps closer to him. “Didn’t I already prove my trust in you?” she asks and touches his cheek, a gesture that makes Henry think of Neal and betrayal and lies. He looks away. 

A grunt. “No, I am … it’s just, I am not sure how welcome we will be.” 

“You said that we will be safe here, that our work will be supported here.” 

“Yes, it will work out, it will. Trust me.” 

Henry knows that Greg is keeping something from them, from Tamara and she knows it too. She just doesn’t interrogate (question?) him about that. 

They start to walk and leave the beach where the portal dropped them off. 

Henry looks around. He tries to swallow his fear, but the jungle is dark and filled with noises he’s never heard before. Everything seems to move, he feels like eyes are following his every step. He wants to be brave and a strong hero, just like Emma. Or his mom. But he can’t. He can’t because he’s on his own now, in a realm he can’t even name, without his storybook or anything that could be any help. No, instead he’s forced to trail behind Greg Mendell who not only almost killed his mom with a cruel device that sucks out the magic of the victim, but also electrocutes them. 

“Where are we going?” he finally dares to ask. 

Greg ignores him, busy again with his map and a compass. 

“We need to find a safe place to stay,” Tamara answers from behind. “You must be tired.” 

Oh, it’s a cruel thing to say, Henry thinks. To make him believe that this is all about him and that they don’t want to do him any harm. Perhaps they don’t plan to kill him (not right away, at least) but clearly they have plans. Plans that started with kidnapping him and will end with something worse than that. 

A lump forms in his throat. 

He hopes, prays that Emma and his mom will find him in time. That they will look for him, both of them. He blinks the burning tears away. 

“Walk faster, boy. Neverland has no time for loafers!” 

This is a nightmare. 

# 

It takes almost thirty more minutes for the ship to put into the harbor of Storybrooke. Hook stands tall on deck, and Emma notices how Regina tenses up at his sight. Yeah, that’s going to be fun, she thinks. 

She doesn’t really know the details of Hook’s part in the story of Regina’s torture but just one look at the former queen and it’s clear to her that his role in this whole mess is not a pretty one. She watches him and how he leaves the ship, his crew staying on board. (Where the hell did the guys go during their stay in Storybrooke?) 

“What are you doing here, Hook?” David stands between Hook and them and makes sure that he can’t come any closer. 

The pirate lifts his hand and hook in a subjecting gesture. “My return means no harm to you or your family, Prince. Or you, your Majesty.” His blue eyes flicker briefly towards Regina’s direction and Emma has the mighty need to punch that man in his ridiculously handsome face. 

Snow joins her husband in a supporting manner, trying to shield them from Hook’s curious eyes. “Then why are you here?” 

“I …” And for the first time in the history of their brief acquaintance, Hook seems to be at a loss of words. “Listen, I know that there is no reason left to trust me. I wouldn’t trust me, either, aye? But I realized that I … need to …” He stops and looks down at his dirty pirate boots. 

“Go on, Captain!” yells a man from behind him, wearing a red beanie.

“Who’s that?” Emma whispers in Regina’s direction, because her parents are a few feet away now, their attention on Hook, who glares at the man on deck. The crew laughs. 

Regina shrugs. “Do I look like I know every peasant from the other realm? A pirate, at that.” 

Well, she doesn’t know what she expected. 

Hook takes a deep breath. “Alas, I wronged you and it cost you dearly. I decided that it is no longer possible for me to sail away, using that bean I stole from you and leaving you for good.” It’s funny how formal he becomes when he’s nervous. He looks like he’s about to jump into the water just to end his misery of apologizing for his unforgivable crimes. Henry’s kidnapping is on his hands, too. Or hand, actually. He helped these two lunatics. 

Emma marches forward, pushing her parents aside. “You know where they took him, right? What they plan to do with Henry.” 

“Yes.” 

“And you came back to help us, just like that.”

Hook smiles at her. “I knew that if someone would understand me, it’d be you, Swan.” 

“Just answer my damn questions, asshole.”

His small smile falters a bit. “I am familiar with the seas of Neverland. I know how to find him on the island, love.”

“Save it,” she warns him, coming a bit closer and ignoring the murmured warnings from her parents. She stops in front of him. “Give me one good reason to trust you and your little crew on your bloody ship.” 

Hook actually flinches at that and looks at her hurt for the split of a second before he thinks better of it. “Once upon a time, I left a friend behind and to this day I don’t know if she made it or not. I already left you behind once and even though you might not see our resemblance, I certainly do. It just … it took me more crimes and another unsuccessful try to get my revenge to see it, to really get it.” 

“I don’t really see how your latest misdeed was a means to get back at Rumpelstiltskin.” 

“No? Well, I knew that you would come to save the queen. And I also knew that where you are, Baelfire would follow you. That’s what his fiancee told me. They promised me to help me with my crocodile.” 

She blinks in realization. “You thought, he would come to help his son,” she concludes.

He nods. “Yes, I did. And I was wrong. Now, Baelfire is dead and his godforsaken father is still alive, happily reunited with his love.” 

Emma turns around and walks back. Snow and David have both raised expectantly their brows, but it is Regina she walks over to. “We don’t need his help,” she starts. 

“Don’t be silly, Miss Swan.”

“It’s okay to say no to him, after everything that he’s done to you.” 

“We have no choice. He has that bean, he has a ship. Henry is now my priority above everything else. I no longer have the luxury to dismiss this pirate just because I’d love to cut his small black heart out.” She breathes hard and closes her eyes for a brief second. “I’ll manage.” 

Emma doesn’t believe her. Something’s off with the former queen, she just can’t put her finger on what. Maybe it’s just the lack of sleep, she tries to calm herself down. Her paranoia needs to stop. Emma thinks about touching Regina’s shoulder, just to show her empathy and understanding, but she refrains herself from this idea. And it’s not because of Regina, it’s because of her parents and the meaning of that touch and oh god, why is everything so complicated all of a sudden? 

She turns her head to look at her parents. “Let’s go to Neverland,” she announces and it sounds tired and defeated.

Regina sighs and yeah, that’s a perfect summary of her mood right now, as well.


	2. Chapter 2

“How often did you visit Neverland?” Henry asks Tamara. He shouldn’t be talking to one of his captors, but Tamara turns out to be the lesser evil of the two of them. She’s more calculated, more human in that aspect. 

Greg Mendell on the other side behaves more and more strange, startling at every noise that come from the thick jungle. 

Tamara walks next to him, sometimes even holding a branch for him or telling him where to pay special attention, so that he doesn’t step on a snake or whatever. “I never had the chance to get here. It’s not exactly easy to visit Neverland as a grown up.” 

“Why?” 

“This realm is for those who never want to grow up or who at least want to escape their responsibilities. But most grown ups just _can’t_ leave them behind.” She shrugs. “At least, that’s what I heard. I actually don’t know how this works.” 

“And you still want to destroy magic?” He is a little out of breath, his jacket is too heavy and he really wants to take the scarf off, because they are in a _jungle_. 

Tamara nods, trying to avoid her hair getting caught in the shrubs around them. “Not in this realm, though. It’s a complicated system of rules and your mom … your mom broke it with her curse. Take Neverland as example. Usually people like me or Greg—we’re not allowed to be here under normal circumstance. And our stay won’t be longer than a day or two.” She sounds hopeful. 

“But how?” 

“I am not sure how Greg managed to get us here,” she admits slowly. “He already was here, once. A long time ago.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. His name was Owen Flynn, then.” 

Henry is grateful for her honesty, but he also worries what that means. Why does she tell him everything? They are not on the same side, right? They are enemies. They kidnapped him and now they are planning to do with him god knows what. He frowns and tries to ignore the unsettling feeling in his stomach. 

“Is Neverland at least a bit like the Disney version?” he continues his game of asking questions just to keep his mind occupied. 

Tamara tilts her head a bit, helping him to jump over a fallen tree. “I suppose a few things are the same. Peter Pan exists, as do the Lost Boys. But I doubt they are running around the woods, playing hide and seek and singing merry little songs.” 

Henry hums affirmatively and then he takes his scarf off and ties it around his waist. He’d like to get rid of his jacket too, but he doesn’t know where to put it. And simply leaving it behind seems to be not the wisest thing to do. Maybe the weather will change. Or the nights are going to be cold. Something in the back of his minds says something about ‘hot days, cold nights’ so he won’t risk anything. He can still hear his mom’s voice in his head, telling him to take the jacket with him when he was about to leave the house on a fresh spring or autumn day.

He misses her and it hurts in his chest to think about her. He hopes she’s alright. He really does. “And the island?”

“According to Greg’s map,” she nods in the direction of her partner, “the island is similarly shaped as the Disney version suggests.” 

“Cool,” he breathes, because he might be abducted right now, but he likes to learn new things, especially about a realm he only knows from a Disney movie. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and takes a deep breath. His jeans feel like they’re made out of wood or something. 

It’s hard to pay attention where they are walking. Greg is silent and Henry has no real knowledge of how to find some sort of guidance in the wilderness. At least a dark hand is always watching out for him, catching him in the last second, before he trips over a stone or root. When they have a small break, Tamara gives him something to drink and a chocolate bar to eat. It could be worse, he thinks. But it’s not ideal either, of course. 

And he has to take that damn jacket off or he’ll die because of a heat stroke. 

#

In the end it is more of a practical decision above anything else. Emma shares a cabin with Regina, so her parents don’t have to split and Regina isn’t forced to share a small room with Snow White. It would end in a blood bath, so it’s better for everyone that Emma decides wordlessly to follow after the former queen into their cabin. 

Regina doesn’t look too thrilled about her being here, though. 

Then again, the former queen looks sickly pale and the first thing she does is to throw her bag next to her bed an sit down on the simple bunk that looks really uncomfortable and somehow reminds Emma of her hard and scratchy bed in prison. 

“Are you alright? Wait, let me get you something to drink and eat,” she quickly says, before Regina can give her another death glare for that question. 

She doesn’t get any sort of protest. 

Emma climbs the stairs and realizes that she has no clue where to go. Surely there is something like a kitchen on a ship, right? She stands a bit lost in the middle of what seems to be the sleeping place of the crew. There are hammocks hanging around this deck, and empty bottles of rum are rolling softly around with the rocking of the ship. 

“Can I help you, Miss?” 

She swirls around, a bit startled and stares at the man with the red beanie. It’s the same who laughed at Hook. “Ah, I dunno, yes? I am looking for the kitchen? Or at least a place where I can get food and something to drink.” 

The man smiles at her politely. “Sure thing, Miss. You won’t find it on the Berth Deck, though.” He chuckles at that and points with his hand at the hammocks. 

Emma smiles back and not just because it’s the right thing to do. The man seems to be genuinely nice. “Thanks, Mister …?” 

“Smee.” 

Of course. 

She just happened to trip into another fairy tale or something. Smee looks completely differently from what she learned to expect thanks to the Disney version. He’s a lot younger, short and doesn’t show any signs of clumsiness, despite of being a bit chubby. Maybe that part was added to entertain the kids, Emma thinks to herself. 

She trails behind Smee and they climb the stairs to get on the Main Deck, where the crew is preparing everything to enter the portal, Hook is about to open in a few minutes. Smee is good at explaining. They march through the Gun Deck to get to the next stairs. 

The men of Hook’s crew are busy with the sails of the main mast and Emma feels like she suddenly is a part of the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ franchise. It’s amazing, in a way that makes her feel guilty. This isn’t supposed to feel like that. She’s on a rescue mission to find her son and to get him back and not to play a little bit pirate. 

“He’s going to open the portal soon,” Smee breaks the silence between them and she follows his gaze. Hook is standing at the bow, staring at the horizon. It looks oddly philosophical. 

“I told him to turn around,” Smee continues. 

It takes her a few seconds to get what he means. “Really?”

“We had a discussion like that some decades prior and he didn’t listen to me. He never does, usually. But maybe he realized that vengeance can’t be … can’t be _it_ , ya know?” He adjusts his beanie anew and sets into motion again. “The kitchen on a ship is called Galley, by the way.” 

She repeats the word. “And what is your … task on the ship?” She has no idea. She knows that the Captain is in charge and the crew is below him. That’s it. It’s been a while since she watched one of the three (or four?) _Pirates_ movies.

“I am the First Mate,” he replies and it’s a silly thing to say while he wears that damn red beanie, because he looks like he’s about to join the seven dwarves, not a member of a pirate ship like this. 

“Sounds important.” 

“It is, I suppose.” He clears his throat. “What does the lady wish to dine?” 

It makes her laugh and it feels bad, bad, bad. 

She shouldn’t be laughing. 

At all. 

# 

The cook, whose name she’s already forgotten, brew her a herb tea with rum and gave her some bread. She had told him that someone was seasick and even though that isn’t the exact state of Regina, it seemed like the right thing to say. The right thing to lie about. 

She finds her way back to her cabin surprisingly fast, not seeing anyone. Her parents are still in their cabin or elsewhere, she isn’t sure. 

She knocks with the hand that holds the bread, careful not to spill any of the steaming tea over her other hand. 

No answer. 

She opens the door and is greeted by a sight she didn’t expect. Regina is curled up in the lower bunk, facing the wall. “Go away,” comes the cranky and weak protest.

“No. I have tea that smells a bit weird—I am pretty sure you don’t mix herb tea with rum—and some bread.” 

“Herb tea with rum?” Regina turns slowly around, looking at her with glassy eyes. Oh god. She looks really bad. 

“Yeah,” Emma whispers and is scared to let her worry show. She places the mug and bread on the stool next to the bunk, and then places gently a hand on Regina’s forehead. “You have a fever.”

“I am fine.” 

“Your burning forehead tells a different story.” 

“I don’t care. I am fine,” Regina tries again, wincing in pain. “Just a headache. I’ve had worse.” 

Emma refuses to think about that statement (and what it implies) and takes her hand away. “Any other symptoms?” 

“My, my, I didn’t know you are a doctor now. What an impressive life you have, Emma Swan.” 

“Regina.” 

“I feel just a little bit sick.” 

“Let me grab a bucket then.” 

“I never traveled on a ship before,” Regina tries to explain, her eyes still closed. This is no seasickness, though. And they both know it. 

Emma is already at the door. “You’ll get used to it. Put a foot on the floor, that will make the nausea less intense,” she mumbles, playing along. 

Then she leaves the former queen once again to get a bucket. 

# 

They eventually find a spot that is on higher ground and still mostly protected from wind or “curious eyes”, as Greg puts it. Henry has no idea who is meant by that and if they are really safe here, but he has no choice. Tamara stays with him there, while Greg announced to look for some firewood. 

Henry takes a deep breath when he leaves. 

“Something wrong?” Tamara rarely looks away from him and it took him some time to get used to it. 

He isn’t sure how to answer this question. “Just tired,” he smoothly lies, sitting down on his jacket. Well, it’s not really a lie. He is tired. But he’s so much more than that. He’s terrified of Greg. He doesn’t know what to make of Tamara, nor does he understand why this woman decided to join Greg in his grand quest of vengeance when they seem to have different opinions on so many things. They claim to be in love, but they don’t behave like that. They barely talk. He looks at his dirty hands. 

Even Emma and his mom talk more with each other than these two.

“Let me see,” she says and crouches down next to him. There are a few small cuts, nothing bad. She takes his hand carefully in hers and studies the cuts. “We should clean them,” she says and reaches for her bag. After some seconds of rummaging around in that bag, she takes a small bottle of sanitizer out. 

It burns. 

But he endures the procedure without making a noise. 

“Better?” 

“Thank you,” he sighs and flexes his fingers a bit. It still stings, but it’s nothing he couldn’t handle. The cool lotion and its tangy smell remind him of his childhood, of his better, more peaceful days when it was his mom who took care of his wounds after he fell off his bike or tripped. Before he found out about the adoption. Before he got the book from Mary Margaret. He presses his lips together and blinks the burning tears away. He hopes that Tamara will interpret them as the aftereffects of the burning sanitizer, although he doesn’t really care. 

Why should he? 

He still has no idea what they want from him, why he’s here. 

A part of him already begins to wonder if he is going to find out. Perhaps not. It is a devastating feeling to accept a fate like this; being somewhere in the depths of a tropical jungle on an island that until now didn’t appear to be threatening. But then again, he just spent a few hours on that island. 

And there is still Tamara and Greg.

“Hungry? Here, a sandwich.” 

It’s too dry and not as good as the ones Emma makes. But he’s too hungry and too depressed to care. He chews silently, lost in thought. 

“You are worried about what will happen to you, aren’t you?” 

Henry looks up. “I have every reason to be,” he points out and sometimes—just like now—he wonders if he doesn’t behave more like his mom than he wants to see. Sure, he’s the biological son of Emma, but in the end he was raised by Regina. 

Tamara smiles at that. “You’ll be fine, Henry. We didn’t bring you here to harm you. This is your chance to start over, you know? Away from these toxic people who are addicted to magic or too dependent on their own parents to see the danger right in front of them.” 

He knows that she’s talking about Regina and Emma. 

His hand with the sandwich sinks. “You killed Neal.” 

Tamara’s posture changes. She straightens up and kicks a stone away. “I aimed at Emma Swan,” she says and he can’t tell if that’s the truth or not. And does it change anything? Neal is still dead. His dad was killed, and it doesn’t matter if it happened by accident or not. The fact still remains the same, the pain is still the same. “I never wanted that to happen.” 

“No, you wanted to kill Emma. And my mom.” 

“Emma Swan is your mother, if you have a mother at all,” she corrects him and her words sting, because she’s lying. Emma doesn’t behave like mom in many aspects, but she would do anything to protect him and that part of him is also hoping that she somehow found a way to Neverland. _Pleasepleaseplease_. “And I truly regret what happened to Neal.” She looks guilty, he has to admit. However, grown-ups are gifted liars. Why should he trust her? 

“But you lied to him,” he argues, because he might be just an 11 year old boy, but he isn’t stupid. He knew about David and Mary Margaret’s affair, he knew that David was lying to his fake-wife, but he didn’t think much of it, since it wasn’t real. These lies didn’t hurt him directly, so he didn’t care much about them. They were cursed, after all. None of it was real. “You lied to him and he loved you.” 

She laughs at that. “You really believe that, Henry? He was still in love with Emma, but too much of a coward to do something about it. Look how fast he went with her to Storybrooke, leaving me in New York. Asking me for my car. He replaced me with her long before I betrayed his trust. And it’s ironic, isn’t it? He never tried to find her. He never tried to apologize. But the moment she waltzed back into his life, a son tailing behind her, he was ready to drop everything and to follow her. That’s who he was, Henry. Not a hero, but a stupid coward who did the right choices in the wrong time.” 

Henry wants to correct her, but he finds himself unable to. Neal also followed them to Storybrooke because of his father, didn’t he? “What do you mean by that?” 

“He left her in jail. How old was she, you mom? 18? He left her and years later he realizes his mistakes after living his life as if nothing has happened,” she huffs and Henry realizes with some sort of bewilderment that Tamara is angry with Neal on Emma’s behalf. 

He blinks. “But that doesn’t make him a bad guy and it surely doesn’t make it okay to lie to him and kill him like you did.” 

“You are right,” she agrees with a sigh, sitting down next to him. “It doesn’t. But that’s life, you know? Every choice we make is followed by consequences, whether we like it or not.”

He wants to ask if Greg is a hero in her eyes, but he worries his lower lip instead and stares back down at his half eaten sandwich. He isn’t hungry anymore, no. He’s confused. 

He wants to run far, far away from this woman and this man and their lies. 

# 

Emma closes the door and puts the bucket down. Regina ate some of the bread and emptied half of the mug. She still looks like shit. And she’s shivering now. 

“Here, the bucket,” she says and shoves the bucket closer to the bunk, right next to the stool with the mug and the rest of the bread. 

Regina slowly opens her red rimmed eyes. “Why are you doing this?” 

Emma knows the answer to this: there is none. Back in her days as a miserable foster kid she would help her sometimes even more miserable foster siblings. Usually no one looked after you when you were sick, most foster parents barely managed to look out for themselves, glued to their bottle of beer or worse. Emma never had anyone to hover over her bed and check her temperature and make sure she had enough to drink or to eat. She simply had to learn how to get better on her own, which is a shitty lesson if you’re just seven years old or younger. 

So she helped them, even the ones who tended to be mean to her. She just … sometimes, a part of her hoped that if she helped them to get better, they would stop to be mean, stop to take away the few possessions she had as a kid. As a foster kid you always try to get the best out of a situation. Even if it meant to play butler for those little ungrateful shits. 

“Just drink and eat, Madam Mayor.” 

A tiny smile ghosts around the corners of Regina’s full lips. “Do your parents know that you’re helping their worst enemy?” 

“I don’t think they would consider you as their worst enemy anymore. I know I don’t. Never really did, actually,” she confesses and sits down on the bunk, careful not to touch Regina. 

“What?” 

The rocking of the ship grows more intense and she swears to hear a delighted yell from Hook and the rush of a great amount of water. A big wave? Or did he open the portal? She almost falls off the bunk if it weren’t for Regina’s hand that is still strong enough to catch her arm right in time. She groans while doing so.

Yeah, he opened the portal. 

The rocking motion makes Emma feel queasy and she quickly thinks about something to talk to distract herself. “I thought after that night at your mansion, when we first met, we could somehow become friends. You know, I never planned to stay, but I hoped we could exchange emails or stuff like that and keep in touch.” She shakes her head, half ashamed of how wrong she’d been about that stubborn and bitchy brunette. 

Regina coughs, but it sounds like a condescending cough. If someone is able to cough that way, it’s the former Evil Queen. “You idiot,” she rasps out, before reaching for the bucket. 

Yeah, fun times ahead. 

# 

Emma can relax. 

Even a former queen can’t stay all regal and majestic while puking her soul out. 

What a relief. 

# 

Greg returns with firewood and an unreadable expression on his tired face. “We need to rise early. We ended up on the wrong end of the island,” he tells them, while making a fire pit. 

“What do you mean?” Tamara walks over to him, handing him her lighter. 

He looks at her and yes, there is something like fondness in his eyes, Henry admits. But he isn’t sure if he would call that love. Partner in crimes, yes, but lovers? Then again, he’s just 11 and he hasn’t been in love yet. So what does he really know? 

Greg takes the lighter. “It means, that we’re too close to the Cannibal’s Cove. We need to get away from here, as soon as possible.” 

“Jesus.” 

“Relax. They are roaming through the woods only on full moon. Plenty of time.” He places another dry branch to the fire pit. 

Tamara seems not entirely convinced. “You told me we would be safe here.” 

“We are,” he insists and there is a dark edge to his voice. “These savages aren’t a threat to us.” He touches his holster with the loaded gun. 

Henry looks back and forth between them. This is getting out of hand, he thinks and for the first time since landing on wet sand on the beach of Neverland he thinks about running away. He wants to escape this insanity. But he knows that he needs a plan. He has to know a place to escape to, a place to hide. 

He needs to be patient. 

Tamara presses her lips together. “Okay. I trust you, but … don’t do anything reckless. What happened in the cannery could’ve played out better for us, Greg.” 

“I know!” he thunders and throws his arms up. “I fucking know that. Don’t lecture me about that. I wanted to kill her, to do it right, but my plan failed. Well, but so did yours, didn’t it? Getting engaged to the son of the Dark One? Pah.” 

“He was necessary. Without him I would still think you made that story up about that cursed town of your childhood memories.” She comes closer to him, glaring at him. “I followed August, I was the one who told you to search Neal’s apartment for anything suspicious and I was right. You found that postcard, so don’t you dare to tell me my plan was _useless_.” 

Greg halts. “You’re right, I am sorry. But we still didn’t manage to get rid of the Evil Queen’s magical little town. That dumb Savior had to intervene.” 

“It’s not over yet!” counters the woman and Henry senses that her patience is wearing off. He just doesn’t know how smart it is to poke a bear like Greg. He looks like he’s ready to punch someone in the face. Hopefully not him, he prays while eying Greg’s strong hands. “We’re erasing magic from our world, because it doesn’t belong there.” 

“Stop explaining the Home Office to me, I know damn well what they’re doing. What _we’re_ doing.” 

Home Office. 

Henry pretends to be busy with his shoe lace. It sounds like an organization. He needs to know more about that and something tells him that Tamara might be the one to talk a bit more about that. Tomorrow. When they will continue their march through the jungle. 

# 

Regina is sick, but it has nothing to do with the sea. She’s barely conscious and in pain. Emma doesn’t know what it could be but once she mentioned “to ask Snow White for help”, Regina almost slapped her across her cheek. 

“Don’t you dare bring that woman in here!” And then she had closed her eyes and fell asleep. 

Emma sighs. She’s now standing at the dining table, lying in Regina’s name. “She doesn’t feel well. She’s seasick, I guess.” Well, a white lie if you squint both of your eyes tightly. She knows that it is more than that. 

“Oh,” makes Snow, concerned. “Then you should take her plate with you and stay there, hm? I mean, if that’s okay. You both aren’t exactly friends, maybe I should—” 

“I think, she wouldn’t be too thrilled to see you in her state,” Emma says with a shrug. 

Snow sighs. “Yes, I see.” 

She is torn between the need to show Snow that she’s actually a grown up and not a kid anymore, no matter how much Snow wishes her to be like that and the urge to please her parents. The same dilemma that eventually caused the whole Archie affair. She still feels guilty for her betrayal of Regina’s trust. She knows that Regina counted on her and she let the woman down at the worst possible time. 

Well, timing was never her strength. 

She takes both, her and Regina’s plate of sandwiches with her. 

On her way back to the cabin she thinks about all possible reasons for Regina’s sickness. Can you get this sick from lack of sleep? She doesn’t know. And she already checked, there is no real physician on the ship. Smee told her about a certain Dolyn, who seems to be the one responsible if someone’s hurt of the crew. (“He can stitch up a cut like no one else, Miss!”) 

But this is not a nasty cut with a sword. 

It’s something else.

And she highly suspects that it has to do with Greg and her torture and the trigger. Everything. 

“Hi there,” she whispers while she slowly approaches the bed. 

Regina’s fever is higher and she has trouble to keep her eyes open. Emma guesses it’s the light from the lantern in the corner of their cabin that is too bright for her glassy, reddened eyes. “What’s that?” 

“Food.” 

“God, no.” 

“You need to eat at least something, Regina.” 

“I am not hungry.” 

“Please, at least three bites.” 

“Stop … caring about what happens to me, Miss Swan,” she bites out, coughs and curses under her breath. 

Emma goes down on her knees, next to the stool. “You know why you’re feeling like this, don’t you?” 

There is silence. The softly rocking of the ship. Regina sighs deeply. “It’s none of your business.” 

She wants to laugh at that and tell her that _damn, woman, I spent the better part of the remaining day looking after you, you ungrateful little bitch_ , but she doesn’t, because a part of her gets Regina. After not having anyone that looks after you, that takes care of you, you’re incredibly annoyed by the first ones who are brave or stubborn enough to try and stick with you. Emma knows this feeling all too well. She has to think of her parents, that are eating at the table with the other pirates. 

She won’t let go that easily. “Tell me.” 

“No, please … just …” 

“Hook said we’re going to reach Neverland in a few days. The island, I mean. Do you think you’re going to feel better then?” 

Regina looks at her angrily. “Did no one tell you that it isn’t polite to stick your nose into other people businesses? Especially after they told you not to do that, dear.” 

Emma blinks. “That’s kinda rich coming from you, your Majesty. Remember my first weeks in Storybrooke and how you practically told Sidney to _stalk after me_? Finding out my dirty secrets?” 

Emma eats her dry sandwich and nips at the water while sitting on the floor. It tastes a bit stale, but she doesn’t dare to drink the water that is still safely hidden in her backpack. After a while, Regina’s breathing evens out and she believes that the former queen finally managed to fall asleep, but then she breaks the silence. “I have no magic,” she whispers with a broken voice and Emma stops chewing her last bite. 

“What … what do you mean? Like, it’s gone for good?” She sounds horrified by that. How will they save Henry without the powerful magic of his other mother? She doesn’t understand a thing of magic, except maybe that it is fueled by strong emotion. But that’s it and it’s basically just the prologue of magic. She has no clue how to conjure a fireball out of thin air or how to teleport herself or how to make others vanish. 

Regina shivers, a side effect of the fever. “I don’t … really know,” she admits. 

“So, you aren’t really sick,” Emma says slowly. “These are withdrawal symptoms.” And the second she says it she realizes that this is maybe another one of Regina’s dark secrets. 

They gaze at each other. Regina’s look is weary and defeated at the same time and in the end she closes her eyes again and breathes in and out. “I suppose … you might be correct.” 

“That’s good and bad,” she muses, lost in thought. She places her plate back on the stool. “Good, cause it’ll pass. Bad, because you’re an addict and if your magic returns, you shouldn’t use it but then I will have to save Henry on my own, which I can’t, ‘cause I don’t know how magic works and I don’t have a sword and everything my parents say starts with ‘don’t worry’ and ends with ‘we’ll find a way’.” 

Regina chuckles or coughs, she isn’t sure. 

“I just need to survive the next hours. Then … then we will see about … the magic and the rest, Miss … Swan.” 

She reaches for the bowl filled with clean water and the cloth swimming in there. The she wrings it out and puts it on the feverish forehead of the fallen queen that is too weak to keep that content sigh for herself. “Okay.” 

Sounds like a deal.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma slept exactly zero minutes. Or maybe she napped a bit, but it felt like the blink of an eye, so no sleep, basically. 

Regina had nightmares. Fucking bad ones and even though her screams weren’t loud enough to keep the whole ship and crew awake, it sure as hell kept  _her_  awake. She doesn’t mind, it’s not like Regina could’ve done something about it. 

But Emma had felt so damn helpless. She didn’t know what to do at first, and then she somehow ended up lying in Regina’s bunk, the woman curled up next to her and relaxing against her.

It was weird. 

And kind of nice. 

But still weird. 

She tried so hard not to think about the possible meaning of this, but right now, being on deck and watching the sun rising gets her thinking. 

She thinks about the trigger and how she felt  _everything_ ; Regina’s magic embraced her, made her feel good, even though it wasn’t supposed to work like that, right? Snow never missed an occasion to point out how bad Regina and her magic was and therefore it shouldn’t be able to make her feel good. 

But it did. 

And she wonders, just for a second, if she should ask Regina about it. 

The former queen turns out to be the most honest at her lowest. It feels like taking advantage of her poor condition, but she deserves some answers, doesn’t she? Emma sighs and watches the sun rising higher and higher, coloring the sky in various shades of yellow, orange and a little bit of pink. A breathtakingly beautiful view. 

She wonders if Henry can see it too. 

She hopes he does. 

She hopes he’s alright, somewhere out there, trapped on that island that seems to be everyone’s nightmare. 

And she hopes that it doesn’t get any warmer or more humid than it already is. 

# 

Henry is rudely shaken awake. “Come on boy, wake up. The sun is up, we need to keep walking,” Greg tells him and already walks away. 

He sits up, stretches and yawns and sighs. He was never a morning person, but this is really bad. His back is sore and his feet hurt. His shoes are ruined. His jacket is dirty. His back hurts, because the hard ground is nothing like his soft bed at the mansion (he hasn’t slept in for some weeks now) or the bed at Emma’s and Snow White’s apartment. 

Breakfast turns out to be dry toast and a banana. At least, he gets his own bottle of water. Tamara watches him carefully, but smiles at him somewhat comfortingly. 

It is confusing. 

Is he being manipulated? 

Plus, he still remembers how it felt like, when his mom pretended something she clearly didn’t feel, before the curse broke. Or that’s what he thought, he recognizes with a small sigh. He was just a kid. He still is. But he now knows without doubt that his mom really does love him, just like she said it that fateful day the curse broke. 

He didn’t believe her. 

But then she brought Emma and Snow back, putting her own life at danger. 

She was ready to sacrifice herself for the town just to stop the trigger. 

He misses her so, so much. And Emma. And his grandparents. 

“You will forget them,” Greg suddenly says. Tamara isn’t the only one watching him now. They are sitting in a circle around the unlit fire place, eating their food. “And then you will be free. Trust me, I know what I am talking about.”

Henry swallows and he doesn’t believe this man with his dangerous and scheming gaze.

Perhaps he has to hurry with that escape strategy a bit. 

#

The day on a ship starts early and so Emma isn’t on her own for very long. Sleepy pirates shuffle across the deck, carrying buckets with water, or tying ropes and adjusting the sails under the instructions of Smee. He doesn’t look like it, but he can surely control this bunch of men, who start to sing after some minutes while the sun rises higher and higher. 

Emma walks over to Smee, who’s standing on the quarterdeck. Slowly, she learns the different parts of the ship and she enjoys it. It keeps her mind from over analyzing Henry’s condition. “Why are they singing?”

“We take great pleasure in it. A good shanty, some rum and a steady breeze—that’s what a perfect day looks like for us. The pirate life is simple, but enjoyable.” 

“Shanty?” 

“Oh, I forgot. That’s how we call these songs.” 

“Ah.” She isn’t going to lie, this whole lifestyle fascinates her to no end. It’s one thing to watch movies and read maybe books about it and then really being a part of that. This crew, this ship, and yes, even that captain with his hook—they are all real and they  _exist_. 

So does Neverland. 

And it is really hot in this realm, even though it’s still very early. 

“A wardrobe change seems to be in order, Swan,” Hook suddenly quips from behind with a wolfish grin on his lips. Smee silently removes himself from his spot and pretends to check some “knots down there,” if his muttered excuse is to be trusted. 

She stares him down. She doesn’t know why he thinks it’s appropriate to make these sorry attempts at flirting (or whatever this is supposed to be). “Not your business.”

“You’re my guest. Your well-being is indeed one of my constant worries that linger in the back of my mind.” He comes really, really close and the only reason why she doesn’t step back is to not give him the satisfaction of having any power over her. So she stands her ground, even if that means to fully enjoy the scent of a man who hasn’t had a proper bath in some time. Or a wardrobe change. This is the disgusting part of the pirate life, she thinks with mild annoyance. 

“I don’t see you worrying about my parents or even Regina that much,” she points out, noticing with the corners of her eyes, how Smee starts a discussion about how the knots should be tied. 

Hook shrugs. “The queen hates me—with a good reason, I might add. But I want to … I need you to know that what I’ve done was wrong and I now truly despise my decision back then. But that’s what makes us human, right?” 

“Oh no, you don’t get off the hook that easily.” 

“Wow. Was that really necessary, Swan?” 

“Consider this your pun-ishment, Captain,” she smiles and giggles. God, bad puns are the first side effects of sleep deprivation. 

Hook gives her an incredulous look. “I meant every word.” 

“Good for you.” She notices just now that he changed the black vest with a red one and that his long leather coat is missing. Well, it is too hot for that after all. She gazes at the ocean in front of them and wonders if they are even heading in the right direction and if that half-drunken pirate that already smells slightly like rum, knows what he’s doing.

Hook steps aside and his grin shrinks into a small, but sincere smile. “Don’t worry too much, Swan. We have a good breeze, and even with our current position—which is a bit further away from the island than I hoped for—we will be there in time. He’s a strong boy from what I’ve heard.” 

Emma only nods. Hook being all awkward and trying to be genuinely nice to her is more amusing than annoying, but she doesn’t really care. She rather enjoys this rare sincere moment of honesty. Who knows how long it’ll last? 

“And really, love, put on a dress or something,” he adds with a wink. 

Well, better these three honest seconds than nothing, right? 

# 

Regina is awake when she returns to the cabin. She still looks really pale, but she seems to be a bit better than yesterday. She can keep her eyes open. “Where were you?” It’s not an accusation, just curiosity and something else, something Emma can’t quite name. 

Doesn’t want to name, perhaps. 

“I needed some air.” Yeah, the air in this small cabin with only a small, sealed port light isn’t the best. Still, it’s a lie. She needed to get away from this woman, because while she doesn’t mind to take care of her while she is unable to do so herself, she is scared of the meaning of it and how it will change … things. Their relationship is in a very fragile state right now. 

Regina just nods. “Oh, okay.” 

“I also learned a few new things about pirates.” 

A hum, a sign to continue.

“They’re singing shanties. It’s fascinating, I guess. I dunno. I don’t mind being on a ship and I like the wind and the sea air and even though the weather in this realm is too hot for my to cold temperatures used ass.” 

“Language, Miss Swan.” 

“Yes, Madam Mayor. How about breakfast?” 

That smile makes her heart race and her stomach do weird things. And it’s not because she’s hungry herself. 

#

The light in the jungle is greyish-green and it makes Henry feel isolated from the world. This is like a dream. A very vivid dream, the colors are really intense and because of the heat his cloth cling to his skin. Tamara is walking next to him again, Greg a few steps ahead in front of them. 

She talks about the plants and why they are walking this small, rarely used path. She mentions something about “savages” with a sneer, and Henry is sure that there is more to it. He is curious. 

“Savages?” 

“They practice dark magic, from what I know.” 

“Blood magic,” Greg supplies from the front. “It’s more than just dark magic.” 

 _Blood magic_. That doesn’t sound good, Henry thinks, but he pretends to feel nothing but curiosity about this fact. “And why are they doing this?” 

“Because,” Greg starts, before Tamara can even think of an answer, “they want to protect themselves from the Shadow.” He stops and turns around to look at him. “A demon, dark and cruel that sometimes takes control over one of the children he took to Neverland.” 

Henry’s throat feels really dry. 

Greg smiles faintly. “But these are just stories. Still, they practice this kind of magic to keep the borders around their camp up. I don’t remember the tribe’s name, but they are different than the Indian tribe westwards from here.” 

Henry thinks about the Disney version of Peter Pan and Neverland and how there also is an Indian tribe. He won’t lie, it  _is_  exciting to be here. He just wishes to be here with his parents and not with these two strangers who are clever enough to be more or less friendly to him. 

“Don’t worry, Henry,” Tamara says with a small sigh. “The tribe is never leaving Cannibal’s Cove, so we’re safe as long as we keep moving towards that volcano. See, there it is.” 

Henry almost trips, his heart racing. 

 _Cannibal’s Cove_. 

He’s going to die, he’s sure of it. 

# 

She spent the whole day working with David on her sword skills. Smee gave her a broadsword, it was less elegant and fancy than David’s sword, but the hilt fit her hand perfectly and she needed a weapon. A gun would’ve been better though, but her father pointed out on numerous occasions that she was doing fine with a sword like this and her gun was in at the station in Storybrooke or at her apartment or in the police cruiser. Anywhere, but here. 

They are still standing on the Main Deck, in a corner where they don’t bother the crew at work and they practice various techniques on how she has to defend herself or how to attack someone who is far more skilled or stronger than her.

David is a good teacher. Patient. Understanding. Friendly. He never loses his temper, always corrects her with a smile, even if he tells her the same thing over and over again, because her brain is tired from the lack of sleep. 

“Never put too much energy into one blow,” he tells her now, both circling around each other. “You won’t have enough time to withdraw your arm and get ready for the next blow or to defend yourself. It’s better to find the weakness of your enemy and use it against him.” 

Emma can feel a small breeze from behind. The humid weather is making their training a bit more exhausting than necessary. She’s only wearing her grey top she had underneath her black turtle neck “Okay.” 

Snow is watching them with a small, worried smile on her pink lips from a bench. It’s a weird way to have some family bonding time, Emma thinks. She isn’t complaining, though. This is important. If she wants to successfully safe her son then she needs to be able to protect herself and fight for him. She needs to be ready. 

They all need to be. 

Her arm is tired. She’s not used to this kind of strain. She did fight with a sword, once against a dragon and the other time against the very same man who now promised them to sail them safely to the shores of Neverland. Hook. 

“How about a break?” Snow suggests, after the swords crash against each other, the impact running straight through her right arm. 

David relaxes and his hand with the sword sinks. “Sounds good. I could use something to drink. Maybe eat, too,” he winks at her and puts the sword back to the scabbard.

Emma’s scabbard is attached to her back. It is way more comfortable this way, nothing that is clashing against her thigh with every step. “Yeah, why not?” She gives her parents a smile and then thinks about what she could bring Regina to eat. 

Five minutes later she descends the stairs to their quarters. Her parents stayed on deck, wanting to make a plan on how to find Henry. It’s a futile effort. None of them—except Hook and his crew—have ever traveled to this realm. But she didn’t say anything, because how can she ask for her parents’ approval and respect for her actions if she isn’t willing to believe in them, too? 

“Knock, knock.” She doesn’t wait for an answer. 

“I was wondering … if you had managed to drown yourself by now,” Regina rasps out. The way her hands clutch at the bedsheets tells Emma that she’s still in pain. 

Withdrawals are never fun. 

She rubs her forehead. She actually needs a shower from all the sword fighting practice, but they are on a pirate ship where even going to the toilet is an adventure. Or cleaning buckets, for that matter. She winces at the memory. “David showed me a few things with the sword,” she tells her and points at the sword on her back. “Here, I brought you a chocolate bar. Snow gave it to me, but I am not that hungry and you look like you could eat something.”

“I am not eating that.”

“Regina.”

“I’d rather eat an apple. You took some with you, didn’t you?”

Emma nods. She sighs and walks over to the corner with her backpack. She takes two apples out, one for Regina and one for herself. The chocolate bar vanishes in the backpack.

Regina closes her eyes after the first bite. “I am sorry that I kept you awake, Emma,” she murmurs after swallowing it and looking down at the fruit in her hand. “And that you feel obliged to look after me.” 

“How do you know that I …?”

“You look really, really tired and I am fully aware that I have nightmares, which is what kept you awake, I assume. Henry is a heavy sleeper, so he never noticed, I hope.” 

Emma is glad that she is still talking about Henry in the present tense. She isn’t sure if she could handle anything else. But at the same time her heart aches because of the resigned look in Regina’s dark eyes. As if she accepted her fate of having nightmares or—the worse and most likely more accurate assumption here—as if she believes to deserve them. She sits down on the former queen’s bunk again and eyes the apple. She can feel her gaze on her face.

She wants to say so much. But she’s never considered herself to be a wordsmith and so she doesn’t even to try and comfort Regina. Not directly, at least. Instead, she decides to tell that woman a story about herself. 

“One year after I became a bail bondsperson, I got one of the tricky jobs. A guy that ran off and left his family. The usual. It’s more often than not a dickhead of a husband or father that did some shit and then decides to run away. And yes, I know how ironic that sounds coming from me,” she quickly adds when she sees Regina’s surprised look and the way she opens her mouth to put in her two cents. 

“Anyway, I tracked him down. He was in a bar, drinking and laughing and smoking with friends as if nothing was wrong. I slipped in and decided to wait. You know, he was like about 6’2” and something like 180 lbs so he could kill me with his bare hands right on the spot. So I wanted to wait until he got drunk enough to be taken down.” 

She notices Regina’s frown, but pretends to be unaware of her disapproval on how Emma spent her days before Henry found her. The _this woman with her bad influence has spent time with my son_ can’t be overlooked. It makes the brunette look grumpy. “Two hours later, I decided that it’s time to change things. I got up, walked over and asked for fire. He wasn’t suspicious, he even bought me a drink. ‘Cause, you know, men like blonde curls and low cut blouses and it’s so easy to distract them. 

“But one of his friends recognized me. I don’t know how or when we met, I couldn’t place his face, but he yelled at that guy, Johnny Something, that I was after him. I am going to spare you the nasty details of that bar fight, but I not only taken that guy successfully down, I also got myself into an ambulance, because I had a knife sticking out of my chest and broken ribs and a bloody nose and—” She stops, because there is no need to mention every injury she had. Her hand wandered absentmindedly to the scar underneath her collarbone. Lucky for her it had been only a small pocket knife, but the scar was there and she still remembers the pain. 

“What are you trying to tell me?” Regina asks quietly and the expression on her face is unreadable. She can’t say if that is sadness, pity or regret. Latter would only make sense if Regina cared about what her vengeance, her glorious and dark curse forced Emma to endure. And she highly doubts that that is the case, or at least not out of her own interest. Maybe it’s because of Henry. 

She gives her a long look. “You apologized.” 

“What?”

“You apologized for keeping me up. For being ill. But here’s the thing, your Majesty, I help you, because I know how it is to not have anyone. I know this feeling since my childhood and I was painfully reminded of it after that bar fight. There was no one to pick me up from hospital. And there sure as hell was no one to carry my groceries—or even me—to my apartment in the eighth floor, where I lived. The elevator in that building never worked or got stuck somewhere in the third floor. It was in Chicago, I think. Yeah, something like that.” She watches Regina taking another bite of her apple. 

“You wanted to be carried up to your apartment?” Regina arches a perfectly shaped brow. 

Emma nods. “Yeah, I did. You try to climb stairs with broken ribs.” 

“Oh.” 

“Hurts like a—erm, well, it hurts a lot,” she stops herself from saying crude things and takes a deep breath. “So, stop apologizing. You won’t get rid of me, don’t even try.” 

Regina looks at her, chewing the bite and slowly swallowing it, obviously lost in thought. Then she snaps out of what seemed to be a trance and gazes at her with curiosity. “What does this make us?”

Emma tilts her head. Is this woman serious? “You still think that I consider you to be my enemy? After the story I shared with you and the reason for sharing it with you?”

“No, I mean—I need to know how serious you are about what you said. I am sure you know by now that things are a lot more complicated than the wretched tales of Disney want to make you believe.” 

“I … agree, I guess?” 

“I need to know, how serious you are about your offer to help me.” 

“Listen, lady, I don’t make promises lightly if that’s what you’re implying here once again, so just—” 

Regina waves her impatiently off. “That’s not what I meant. Why do you need everything spelled out? Listen, this trip isn’t going to be the easy rescue trip your parents are promising you to have. And I don’t know what that filthy pirate promised you to do for you in order to get into your pants—” 

“Hey!” 

“But let me assure you, that even he with his knowledge about this island can’t outsmart the Shadow.”

Emma pales a bit. The Shadow sounds dark and cruel and she isn’t sure if she wants to know what fate could be awaiting Henry there. Surely a place with a person or whatever named “the Shadow” has nothing but hostility and pain to offer. She shudders. “I am all ears,” she tells her with a shaky voice, because suddenly the weight of this whole situation comes crushing down and it feels a lot like being punched in the guts. 

Regina watches her carefully. “I only heard rumors about his existence. In the Enchanted Forest there was a tale that told the story of a shadow, stealing unhappy children away to a land far, far away where they could stay forever young and be happy. Something like a tale about the paradise for children. I was a child myself when I first heard of it. But I never found out what to say or to do to make the Shadow come for me and after a while I simply stopped believing in it. Magic is a real and fundamental thing in our old realm, but even that seemed a bit farfetched to me and I believed it to be a silly story to scare or comfort children—whatever they wanted to hear—rather than to be a real actual fact. It was Rumpelstiltskin then who told me that Peter Pan, possessed by a demon called the Shadow, is quite real and that children sometimes vanish, just like that.” 

“And what does that … demon do?” Dear god, demons are real. She wants to scream or even better, she wants to rip Greg and Tamara’s heads off. 

“I don’t know. But you have to understand that I will stop at nothing to save Henry and if you truly want to help me, then we need to work as allies. We need to be able to rely on each other.” 

“I can do that.” 

Regina takes a deep breath. “Are you sure? Think about your parents.” 

“Is this a trap? A try to get rid of me?” Emma gets to her feet. 

Regina closes her eyes for a brief moment and pinches the bridge of her nose in a gesture of annoyance. “Did I say that, Miss Swan? Be a dear and try to listen for once.” 

“Then stop being so cryptic on a Rumpelstiltskin-level!” 

“Your parents will try to stop you from doing what is necessary, because they will tell you that it is wrong and not the right way. And I need to know that you are ready for a time where your hands will get dirty.” 

“If you’re talking about the two bastards who stole our son, then yes, I gladly help you,” she vows and clenches her hand into a fist. She wants to make them beg, to snap their necks or— 

She breathes slowly in and out and avoids Regina’s gaze. 

The former queen probably knows anyway what she’s thinking about right now. “Good.” 

And just like that they are on the same side. 

Well, officially on the same side, that is. 

# 

Henry has to admit that there is something disturbingly beautiful about the waterfall and the untamed jungle around them. The river is flowing by and he already spotted one or two crocodiles. Greg as always walked ahead to check their path for unwelcome guests, such as cannibals, or some dangerous animals. 

Tamara is right behind him. “So, can you guess where we are?” 

He thinks a bit about it. “Isn’t there a Crocodile’s Creek in Neverland?” 

“Very good,” she praises him and he can feel her hand on his back. “We’re almost there, Henry.” 

“Yeah? And where is ‘there’?” 

“You gonna see it soon enough, young friend.” 

He wanted to inform her that he wasn’t her friend, nor does he consider her or Greg to be one of his friends, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Greg shouts from the rock he’s standing on and waving to them. “Hurry up!” 

The path leaves the jungle for good after a while and they keep following the wide river. The waterfall is coming closer and Henry notices that the surroundings change into lowlands with more rocks and cliffs sticking out of it. The ground is harder now and easier to walk on. That’s good. He grew a bit tired of paying close attention to the ground in front of him to avoid tripping over branches or roots hidden under a layer of leaves and dirt. 

“We’re close now. Come on, keep walking,” Greg reminds them, putting his map away. Henry knows, just knows that without his map he doesn’t even need to try to escape that island. Without any kind of orientation he will get himself helplessly lost, and the last thing he wants is to be trapped on this island forever. He tries to tone the feelings down, but he feels homesick. Especially last night, when he tried to fall asleep. He misses them. His mom. Emma. His grandparents. Storybrooke. He always wanted to be on an adventure, to be on a quest, but not like  _this_. He feels stupid for ever assuming that being a hero is a fun business. It’s not.

“Close to what?” he dares to ask Greg. He didn’t talk much to that man and vice versa. Greg always seems to be lost in thought, his serious face almost always scrunched into a thoughtful half-worried frown. 

Greg looks at him over his shoulder. “Peter Pan’s camp, of course,” he smiles. 

It’s a vicious smile, filled with anticipation for something Henry isn’t particularly too interested into finding out. 

He swallows hard. 

“Okay,” he says with a small voice and draws his attention back to his surroundings and Tamara’s warm hand on his back, guiding him. 

Like a prisoner. 

# 

“We’re almost there,” Hook tells her, when she steps out and inhales a deep breath. “I heard the queen is unwell? Is she even ready to—” 

“Save it. You have no right to talk about her well-being. You are partly responsible for the condition she’s in right now.” 

Hook studies the tips of his boots. “Fair enough, Swan,” he murmurs and rubs his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Tomorrow night we should reach the island. I am sure your boy is still alive, Swan,” he tries to calm her down, after he sees her tensing up at his words. 

“How do you know? Did they tell you what they plan to do with him?” 

“No. They never mentioned anything about taking your son, I swear. They only said something about Neverland and how they have some business going on there. Perhaps it is connected with Henry. But that’s good,” he says with a faint smile. 

Emma looks at him incredulously. “Good? What about this is good?” 

“Oh, the answer is quite simple. He seems to be important, aye? That’s why they didn’t simply kill him. They could’ve done that in Storybrooke if it were merely an act of revenge. But they didn’t. That alone should be enough to hope for the best.” His tone suggests that he himself stopped believing in hope a long time ago. 

Not the most effective comfort she’s ever received, but she’s oddly grateful for his effort. And he’s right. They seem to need Henry and that’s why he’s still safe. At least, he’s still alive. 

And that’s good news, too. Emma almost wants to leave him to bring them to Regina and her parents, when a hand stops her. “I hope, you can convince the queen that I will need every helping hand on that island that is cursed and rotten to the core. Tell her that and tell her that it won’t be easy to find your lost son.” 

“Yeah, I am convinced that you out of all people could use a helping hand,” she nods, the chuckle already bubbling up in her throat. 

Hook looks hurt. 

And confused. 

Before he gets it. 

“Very funny, Swan. I didn’t know you are secretly the queen’s jester now,” he winks at her and it sounds incredibly dirty and ambiguous. 

She stops smiling. “Shut up, Hook.” 

With fast steps she leaves him at the steering wheel, whistling to himself with a smug look on his face. That damn pirate. 

And also, why does his comment bother her so much? 

She shakes the thoughts away and knocks at the door of her parents’ room. She realizes that she doesn’t even know how it looks like. Perhaps it’s bigger than hers and Regina’s? 

No, it isn’t, she thinks when David opens the door. He smiles, happy to see her. “Come in. It’s good you’re here. Snow and I are trying to plan our trip on that island a bit,” he tells her and points at the maps sprawled across the wooden floor. Snow is sitting crossed-legged between them, studying them with a concentrated look on her tired face. She only looks up when Emma’s shadow falls on her maps.       

“Oh, Emma. I didn’t hear the door open.” She frowns at that fact and shrugs. “Everything okay? How is Regina? Better?” 

“Yeah, she’s doing alright. She should be strong enough to leave the ship tomorrow,” she tells them, even though she isn’t sure. They spent two days on that ship, tomorrow is the third day. She knows from various stories and personal acquaintances with drug addicts that a withdrawal can last a week or even longer. 

Somehow Regina is steadily getting better, though.  

“Hook told you already,” David comments and sits down on the bunk. Considering that the upper bunk is still looking as fresh and unused as it was when they entered the ship, her parents are sharing one narrow bunk with each other. 

Emma looks away and sits down next to Snow. “He did, like a minute ago or so.” 

“Good. Let’s share our plans with you, then,” Snow smiles and shuffles through the maps to find the one she needs for her explanations. 

After fifteen minutes Emma’s ready to drown herself, because her parents are not really on the same page when it comes to their grand rescue plans, but they are not really fighting, they are tiptoeing around each other, just to make sure that the other person isn’t mad or angry with the other. She closes her eyes. This can’t be healthy, bottling negative emotions up. 

Someday it’s going to blow up in their faces and god, she hopes it’s not going to happen in her presence. 

“I am going to check on Regina,” she softly excuses herself, but her parents are too deep into their diplomatic negotiations to notice her leave. 

She casts one last look at them before she closes the door.


	4. Chapter 4

When the sun sets, Greg guides them into something that can’t be really called a cave. But Henry is tired and they are finally safe from the rain that started to pour down on them some hours ago. Henry’s clothes are completely wet and clinging to his cool skin. He barely feels his feet and fingertips, he’s shivering and his teeth are chattering.

“A fire would be a good start, I think,” Greg says more to himself than to the rest. “Let’s hope I find some dry branches.”

Tamara gives him a doubtful look, but remains silent. 

The tension between them is palpable and it seems to get worse the closer they get to that camp of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. 

Henry sits down and trembles in his wet clothes. He misses a proper bathroom. A tub where he could climb in and warm up a bit, before changing into his PJ’s and clambering into his comfortable bed. He’s exhausted, like never before in his life. Every fiber of his being _burns_. He never had to walk this much and in such a hurry.

“Here, you need to eat something.” Tamara’s voice lacks the gentleness he received from her so far. Maybe she’s still angry with Greg who seems to ignore her doubts and worries on a constant basis, waving them off with a scoff, a hurt look and the words “Look how your plans worked out in the cannery”. Hopefully, his ignorant behavior won’t get them killed. 

“I am not hungry,” he whines and hides his face in his dirt covered hands. 

There is rustling of clothes next to him and a warm hand that touches his shoulder. “I know it’s hard. I wish we could slow down, but this island isn’t the most friendly place. The sooner we get to that camp, the better it’s going to be. I promise you that.” 

“Yeah, you can promise many things,” he says with the stubborn tone of a little child that refuses to go to bed. “You two will leave me behind here and then your promises are worth shit!” His voice grows louder and the well raised part of him is scandalized by his choice of words. 

Screw it. 

He’s going to die. 

Might as well starting to curse a bit. 

Tamara sighs. “I understand your frustration. You miss them. But it’ll pass, you’ll see. In a few weeks from now on, you’ll get to know how life can be without rules and lies and grown-ups who dictate every step you take. Us, Greg and me, included.” She nudges his shoulder with hers. “Now eat, okay?” 

“A sandwich again?” 

“Better,” she says and takes out a food storage box. She opens it and reveals brownies. 

He knows them. He has ordered them at Granny’s a few times. “Are they …?” 

“From Storybrooke? Yes,” she admits. “Maybe it helps against the homesickness, hm?” 

Henry nods. He takes the piece of cake he’s offered and takes a bite. He isn’t disappointed—they taste just like the ones he’s used to have at the diner. 

He knows something is wrong right after he reaches for the second brownie. “What is …” He can’t finish the sentence. His finger never touches the second piece. 

The last thing he sees is Tamara’s satisfied little smirk. “Sleep tight, Henry.” 

# 

Emma tries to blend out the rocking of the ship and the waves crashing against it, but that’s hard when your ship is currently stuck in a fucking storm. It’s pouring rain and the waves are seemingly trying to swallow the ship. She only peeked for a few seconds from the slim staircase leading up on deck and she almost drowned. She hurried back to the cabin where she now was drying her hair with a scratchy old towel.

Regina looks as unhappy and seasick as she feels. “I hate ships,” she announces and Emma wants to yell an “AMEN” to that, but withholds herself from doing so. She throws the towel away and sits down next to the former queen in her bunk. She rests her head against the wall, just like Regina. 

“At least the headache stopped,” she continues. Perhaps Regina needs to talk to distract herself from the current situation. 

Emma only nods and it’s already too much movement. She feels sick and breathes through her mouth, avoiding to talk or think too much. She closes her eyes. Counts to ten. And tries to slow down her heart with the sheer force of will. 

“I wonder if that pirate even remembers Neverland as he claims to do.” 

Emma gives her a confused look. Luckily, it has never been a problem between them to communicate without words. Maybe that’s why communicating with words almost always hurt so much. Because they know each other better than they should. 

Regina snorts. “He’s an alcoholic. Before he came back to the Enchanted Forest, stumbling into my kingdom and trying to get Belle to work with him so that he could get his revenge, he barely was able to spend a day without drinking.” 

“And yet … you’ve sent him to … kill your mother,” Emma grits out and hopes, that Hook truly knows what he’s doing with that ship. It feels a lot like he has lost control over it and she doesn’t know what the yelling on the deck means. Is it a good sign? She doesn’t know and she doesn’t want to know. 

Regina sighs deeply at that remark. “Well, I … was in a place where I simply didn’t care. I just wanted it to be done. And he did have the reputation to be an excellent assassin, if required. All lies, I presume. He couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to.”

“His hook seems to be quite handy for him, though,” Emma adds. 

Regina breathes out through her nose, slow and audible, as if she’s trying to imitate the breathing technique of her dead friend, Maleficent, the dragon. Or witch. Or whatever. “Please tell me you didn’t just make this joke.” 

“It’s not the first one.” 

“How can you be this obnoxious without being raised by your parents?” 

“My parents aren’t that funny to make puns like this. I got totally hooked by them.” 

“Please stop.” 

“Oh, is that a smile tugging at your lips, your Majesty?” 

“And now you’re delusional. Did you happen to start drinking that filth he calls rum, too?” 

Emma laughs. “You find me funny and it annoys you to no end.” 

“I’d rather cut my hand off,” Regina fires back, before realizing what she’s just said. 

Emma bursts with laughter. Her seasickness seems to have vanished and it’s quite surreal to be sitting next to a sulking former evil queen and laughing tears of amusement. “Look how we bond over puns and stuff,” she comments and moves with her hand between them. 

“We certainly make an odd pair of bedfellows,” Regina agrees dryly and looks pleased with herself when Emma gives her a sideways glance. 

“You liar. You enjoy these stupid puns.” 

“They are a charming way to waste time, dear.” 

“I hate you.” 

Regina only laughs. 

# 

They fall asleep after the storm passes and the sea calms down.

It’s not a big deal, really. 

Except that it is. 

Emma still hasn’t left Regina’s bunk. 

# 

Waking up in a tight embrace with your former mortal enemy is awkward. Like, really embarrassing even. Emma doesn’t know where to look and it is her damn luck that the brunette next to her is still soundly asleep. 

No nightmares, this time. 

Emma closes her eyes and tries to assess if she can free her left arm, that is currently trapped under Regina’s waist without waking her up. She can’t. And so she lies still, her eyes closed and thinks about everything but Regina’s warmth and how well rested she feels, even being crumpled together in the lower bunk like that, almost spooning. Luckily, Regina is lying on her back. 

Still, this shouldn’t have happened at all. 

But it did.

Emma senses that maybe running away from certain things isn’t the smartest thing to do, but like hell is she going to start the conversation both of them need to have about that trigger and their combined magic. It’s still surreal that it happened. It feels more like a dream than a real event that took place under the mines. 

She thinks about Henry and how he might feel right now. Frightened, perhaps. Hungry and tired, in the worst case. But he’s alive. She believes with all her heart that he’s alive. Hook is right. He is important to Greg and Tamara and that’s why they abducted him in the first place. It’s not ideal and her mind is still worried sick about him, but it’s enough to not lose her mind. 

“Stop that,” a voice thick with sleep tells her. 

Emma looks at Regina, who has her eyes still closed. 

“Your hand. Stop clutching at my hand like that, you’re cutting my bloodstream off.” 

“Oh.” 

She didn’t even notice that her left hand was holding Regina’s. 

Well, fuck.

# 

They reach the coast with the sunset. The dark red sun is looming behind them when they leave the ship. Emma is quite happy to have steady ground underneath her feet again. 

Regina is staring at her again. 

She ignores it. 

Of course, it can go on like that forever and at some point they really, really need to talk about everything, the trigger, the magic, _everything._ But for now, they need a safe place to camp for the night. 

Hook is the last to leave the ship. His hand is on the hilt of his saber and he looks back to Smee. “We should be back in ten, fourteen days, Master Smee. If not, start a searching party.” He reclines his head, a pose that Emma came to associate with him. 

Smee salutes eagerly. “Aye, Captain.” 

“Good. Take care of her,” he says, gesturing towards the ship, before turning around and facing them. “Is everyone ready?” 

Regina just glares at him. 

Her parents nod. 

She just kinda shrugs. She isn’t ready to face this island and its horrors, but what choice does she have? At least, she isn’t alone, she thinks when she walks behind her parents, who follow Hook’s wide steps keenly. Regina is behind her and just like this they go in that single file into the dark jungle ahead of them. 

The weather here is even worse than before. There is no breeze, no wind to make the humid heat more endurable. The sticky air seems to stay still and Emma feels like she’s breathing in water and not oxygen. 

“Where exactly are we going?” she hears Snow asking. 

Hook curses while he wields his sword to pave a way through the twiners and vines hanging low off the palms. “There is a little clearing not far from here,” he calls back, his voice distant and solemn. She doesn’t like this tone. At all. 

“And where are we right now?” David tunes in, holding a leaf back for Snow. 

“We left the ship in a bay known as Blindman’s Bluff. It’s safely hidden there. But that also means that we’re far away from Pan’s camp, where I presume Henry will be brought to.” 

That catches Emma’s attention and she senses a sudden movement behind her and knows that Regina is listening too. “Why?” 

Hook stops and David almost walks into him. “Do I look like I know everything? Peter Pan is a pain in the ass and I don’t really care what that troublesome boy is now trying to achieve. He’s a greedy, selfish bastard that lost control over his life a while ago and now believes himself to be king of this island. But worry not, Swan,” he says with a crooked smile, “bringing Henry to his camp is a good thing. Means your boy is somehow important to him.” 

“Which is a bad thing in the end,” Regina points out with a scowl. “That is really comforting, Hook. I feel so much better now.” 

“Hey, I understand that this whole situation isn’t ideal, aye? But we just got here, so maybe we try to get along with each other.” He passes David, Snow and Emma by, and stops in front of the former queen. “At least until we have a camp set up, your Majesty.” 

Regina glares daggers at him and Emma figures it’s time to intervene here. She steps between them, her brows raised. “Okay, we hate each other a lot. It’s a fact now. Can we please go to this clearing you mentioned?”

“I am not the problem here, love,” he winks at her, giving Regina one last hard look. It’s a lie, and they both know it. They glance at each other and sigh. 

“I could castrate him.” Regina walks next to her, her glare still directed to Hook’s back. The pirate is right now showing off with his knowledge about the fauna of this island and whether it is out of curiosity or politeness, Snow keeps asking him things about this tree and that flower. 

“I would gladly help you,” Emma says in a nonchalant way, only slightly nervous with Regina so close. 

At least it’s really the climate that is responsible for the heat around them and nothing else. Nothing else at all. 

Regina grimaces. “He was always like this. He always behaves like a misunderstood hero, while he’s plotting something vile and self-serving.” 

“A real pirate then.” 

“Drunk enough to get us all killed. I doubt he remembers much about this island,” Regina sighs and waves with her hand through her hair. “But I think he’s the best chance we’ve got.” 

“Kinda sad, isn’t it?” Since when are they small talk friends? 

Regina gives her a short look. “Albeit it is not the worst case scenario I could envision to find myself in.” 

She tilts her head, ignoring Snow’s curious glance towards them. “What do you mean?” 

“Being stuck with no one but your parents on that island? Well, that is my version of hell.” She chuckles darkly at that and that whole thing tells Emma a lot. First off, Regina is feeling obviously better, well enough to joke around (or at least she hopes that this is meant as a dark joke). And second, _Regina_ _is joking_. That alone is enough to look twice in the former queen’s direction. 

“Come on, what’s the worst that can happen with them as company?” she asks, because she really can’t come up with anything that would endanger this whole mission. 

She receives a long, sad look. “They hurt you with their good intentions and before you know it, they break your heart and you have no time to save yourself and then they leave you alone with your misery.” 

“Is that what …” Emma doesn’t need to finish. 

And Regina doesn’t need to answer. 

Once again, no words required.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Snow talks about a fact that Mr. Gold mentioned to Regina in 1x21 in his shop. I hate the show for never actually talking about this, they just dropped this bomb and then went like "whoa, not important, let's go and make Henry's family tree super confusing, lol."

“Finally,” Hook breathes out relieved as he steps out between trees. He’s holding a self-made torch to fight the upcoming darkness. The sunset is almost here and Emma is aware of how dark the jungle will be once the sunlight disappears. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Emma looks around. This is not a clearing. They are standing in front of the awaiting darkness of a cave entrance. “Hook, where is that clearing? You said ‘it’s right behind the corner, I can feel it!’.”

“I know what I said, love. No need to get all worked up over it.”

“She has a point,” Snow jumps in, stretching a bit. “We can’t keep walking like that through the darkness. Also, my feet hurt.”

“Poor Snow White isn’t used to roaming through the woods anymore,” Regina says from behind in a sneer. “Everybody drop their baggage, the princess is in need of a foot massage.”

“Queen, if you please,” Snow calls back.

Emma and David share a silent look. It’s like watching two cats fight. It starts out of nowhere and suddenly ends. Regina turns around and rolls her shoulders.

Hook stares at his map. “That doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath and this is the last thing Emma wants to hear right now.

“Are we lost?”

“No, but I don’t remember that cave being here. Well, I don’t remember that cave at all. It’s been a while, you see?”

Emma’s shoulder slump down. Her sword is now hanging at her side, while she shoulders her backpack. “Listen, pirate, you told us you knew the way. Now, lead us to that damn clearing!”

“I am trying, Swan! Give a man a chance,” he hisses and rolls his eyes. The shadows around his eyes suggest that he didn’t get much sleep either. Yet, he still nips at his flask that seems to refill itself after a while. There is no way that there would still be some rum left under normal circumstances. “Okay, I think we found the Echo Cave,” he says.

David is behind him, looking over his shoulder. “That a good thing?”

“You bet, mate. It’s a short cut. A safe one. It means we can avoid this area,” he taps at something on his map, “and we don’t need to find that old frail bridge to cross that river that finds its head in Crocodile Creek.”

David only hums, kneading his neck muscles. “Fine. If you can assure us that it is a safe shortcut and not some sort of trap … then I’d say we should take it.” He turns around to face them again.

Emma lifts a brow. “He doesn’t sound very sure, David.”

“But we can’t stay here. We need to find a place to set camp.”

“I trust you,” Snow says softly and Emma doesn’t need to see Regina’s face to see the hateful look she casts at her parents. Some things will never change, even on a quest like this.

“Let’s go on then, shall we?” Hook leads on, rolling up his map and putting it in a pocket in the inside of his coat.

Regina and Emma share another silent look, while Snow and David follow him without a moment of hesitation. Emma doesn’t really know why she isn’t following them into the cave, she just stands there and stares at Regina. “We should probably go,” she encourages her with a hidden smile that is supposed to be comforting.

Regina looks after them. “I don’t trust this drunkard very much.”

“Why should you, out of all people?”

“You chatted a lot with him the past hour,” she comments pointedly, still not looking at her.

Emma rolls with her eyes. “Okay, I am not suddenly on his side just because I asked him how well he knows the island or why he ended up here. I just wanted to make sure he isn’t leading us straight into that volcano.”

The former queen looks at her as if she’s missed an important and blatant point. Then, without any further explanation about what her point was, she goes ahead. Emma takes a deep breath.

Why?

Why did she ever believe one friendly and peaceful conversation would be enough to erase the yawning gap between them? They are no friends. They still tend to be antagonistic towards each other, especially in moments of distress. And Emma knows that Regina is quite distressed right now.

Just about what, that’s an entirely different question. She can think of a few things. And it certainly has to do a lot with Hook being the leader of the group enjoying the trust of Snow and David, while Regina’s actions were questioned all the time in the past.

Emma begins to move. She follows the fascinated voices of her parents and the tour guide alike ramblings of that pirate who talks about how special this cave is but that unfortunately (and most likely due to his alcohol addiction) he can’t remember what it was.

Regina only sighs.

Yeah, that pretty much sums up Emma’s state of mind, too.

“So, we will set camp here?” Snow has this fascinated smile on her face and she looks at the ceiling. There are perhaps hundreds of stalactites pointing down at them, a dangerous hue to their beauty. They seem to glitter in the yellow glow of that torch.

“I’ll get some firewood then,” David is quick to announce, putting his own backpack down.

Emma could swear that Regina just made grossed out noises.

That woman.

#

“Ah, Hook?”

“I am all ears, mate.”

“Wasn’t the entrance this way?”

“Aye.”

Silence.

“No. There is none.”

More silence. Emma is ready to kill Hook and so is Regina. “Hook …” She is sure that if Regina could, she would’ve conjured a fireball by now.

The pirate is standing in the illuminated circle of his torch. “I think I remember now what makes that cave so extraordinary.” His voice is nothing but a broken whisper.

She’s going to strangle him with his hook for that. Stupid, half-drunk pirate.

#

“What do you mean?” Snow is still confused, looking between David and Hook.

Hook glances at Emma. Ha, as if she knew the answer to that. Emma casts a look at David, who glimpses in Regina’s direction. The former queen glowers at Hook with a dark expression, one that makes her look a lot like the Evil Queen in Henry’s story book right now.

This is going to end badly. “Guys, there has to be a way out,” she tries to calm everyone down, especially Regina who seems to be plotting creative ways to get rid of Hook. She stalks in the pirate’s direction who retreats slowly. “There is a way out, right?” She eyes him warily.

“There is one, yes, but it’s complicated.”

“Because we need dwarves with axes to get out of here?” Her voice has dropped a few octaves and it is filled with so much hatred and fury that it is like a natural force on its own. Regina certainly knows how to scare the shit out of someone. With only a few regal strides she’s suddenly right in front of him. “Or because this is a trap for us? Another scheme between you and your two new best friends?” She grabs hold of his jaw and is right in his face, the torch falling to the ground. “Tell me, pirate.”

Hook swallows.

Snow and David are in a state of shock. The pirate has failed them all, something they clearly never expected. Emma snorts. “Okay, enough of that. Regina, let him go.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“The poor man can’t talk like that. Let him explain.”

“Why? I have enough of his lies, enough of his little stupid plans to put his even more dimwitted revenge forward.” She screws her face up in disdain. “Rumpelstiltskin isn’t even here!”

Emma puts a hand on Regina’s arm, the one that is currently outstretched and holding Hook’s chin in an unrelenting grasp. “Please. You can still kill him after he’s said what he wants to share with us.” She’s not serious, but Snow gasps at that nevertheless.

“Emma!”

After a few long, long seconds she eventually lets him go. Hook stumbles back and rubs his chin. “Evil witch,” he curses, but stops when he catches Emma’s gaze. “Fine, I’ll take that one back,” he sighs and takes a deep breath. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in this cave. A few hundred years. And more often than not I was in a questionable state. But that shall not stop me from telling you how to get out of here. It’s complicated and yet simple.”

“Do you fairy tale characters really always have to talk in riddles?” Emma whines, because even without Rumpelstiltskin here, there is still this one killjoy among them who deems it appropriate to explain things in a tense situation like this with cryptic comments.

There is a hand on her shoulder. And a sudden warmth radiating off the torch that comes into her view. “No need to get angry like her, Emma,” Snow whispers into her ear, only audible for her.

Or so she thinks.

Regina glares at Snow. “It is not my fault that you are too stupid to understand that we are currently trapped in a dark cave without any real provisions, firewood and a way out to continue our search for my son!”

Emma winces.

“There is a way out,” Hook points out.

“Then spill it, for god’s sake,” David groans, also running short on patience.

“The cave opens again when everyone tells a dark secret,” Hook declares with a somber expression. “Well, it has to be a secret no one knows of, yet.”

“Just that? A lousy secret?” Emma crosses her arms. That sounds too easy and doesn’t explain Hook’s sudden change of mood.

He clicks his tongue. “Your _darkest_ secret. One, you usually wouldn’t want to share with anyone.”

That explains his face.

The temperature seems to drop a few degrees and everyone eyes the other with suspicion and expectation in their gaze. No one wants to start, of course.

Emma doesn’t really know what her darkest secret is. There are some nasty details of her childhood, but she wouldn’t call them secrets. Yes, she doesn’t want to share them, but you don’t have to be a genius to gather the main points. Her behavior clearly indicates that there had been no happy sappy childhood and Regina had already checked her past after she arrived and stayed in Storybrooke. So there is at least one person in that cave that “knows” or at least suspects about these details.

And her parents? She’s sure that they also thought about her past more than just once, maybe even talked about it with each other, but Emma knows that they also like to deflect that topic. Completely. It’s understandable, they are partly to blame for her crappy childhood.

Emma looks over to Regina who is awfully pale in the warm light of Hook’s torch, still lying on the ground.

Finally, Hook ends this game of waiting and looking. “Great. That seems to be the payback for my sins, because obviously I have to start. So be it,” he sighs with a dramatic gesture of his hook and looks down on the ground. “There is a reason why I came back, Swan,” he starts his confession and Emma is surprised that he meets her gaze and addresses her directly. Her parents pretend to be confused while Regina just grits her teeth.

She really doesn’t like where this is going. It makes her feel uncomfortable, but there is no way out to run from this. If he’s going to proclaim to be in love with her or whatever, then she’s going to break his jaw.

“Once upon a time, I sailed to Neverland with my loyal crew and the purpose to wait for the right time to come back and skin my crocodile.” He inspects his shiny hook. “We stayed quite some time. I don’t know how many years exactly. Time is frozen in Neverland. No one grows up, nothing changes. The rum never runs out. It seemed perfect. I had time to imagine all the cruel things I would do to that man who killed his own wife out of jealousy.”

Emma and her parents flinch, but Regina stands perfectly still. No news to her, then, Emma muses. Of course not. Rumpelstiltskin was her mentor after all. Maybe he told her or she found out somehow. Who cares?

She does.

“But after some years, there was a change. A portal opened and a person appeared out of it. A woman. No, that’s not right. It was a banished fairy.” And now he’s observing Regina and how she squints. “Her name was Tinkerbell. Should be a familiar name, aye?”

Regina stoically tries to maintain the mask of indifference on her face, but fails. Her eyes are once again betraying her and Emma isn’t too happy about what she sees there. Guilt. Regret. And fear.

“Where was I? So, we saved her and brought her safely to the island. We began exploring the mainland, and during that time we developed something like an ill-advised friendship. It was doomed to fail. I was in a bad place that time and so was she. Betrayed by a certain queen, she was filled with hatred and anger. Banished for something that wasn’t really her fault.”

“Enough, Hook,” Regina warns and Emma can see how her jaw is working.

But they all know that this is not possible. Emma averts her gaze.

“We both understood each other. But I wasn’t honest with her. Couldn’t really be. I left Baelfire to his own fate, because he thought I abducted his mother and ended our short friendship or whatever that brief period of time was. But he was wrong! That’s not what happened!” He stresses the word ‘wrong’ with a lifted finger. He breathes hard and is clearly still enraged about what in his eyes seems to be betrayal from Baelfire. Neal. Dear god, why is everything so complicated?

“And then, I think it had to be in the same year the curse was enacted, I knew I had to leave Neverland. I couldn’t bear it anymore. The hot weather, the same clouds every day, and even the talks with Tinkerbell seemed to be limited at some point, because I wasn’t ready to tell her everything.

“So I lied. I told her that I needed to take care of something. I don’t even remember my exact words, but I will never forget the trusting smile she gave me. I betrayed her in the worst way possible.

“Why, you wonder? It wasn’t just the island that made me feel out of place. Something bad was going on. The Shadow, ruling over the island like a king with an iron fist summoned his strength in a way too cruel to explain and changed the shape of the island, changed … everything. He is able to do that. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens. And you don’t want to be on a shifting and moving island.” He shudders.

Emma wants to cover her ears and crawl into a corner. (Something that had proven to be useful in all her spent years in different foster homes.)

“I left her on the island. I left her and there is no excuse for that. I don’t know why I did it. Perhaps, because it was more than friendship and it felt like betraying Milah or my plans to skin that crocodile. Or because I didn’t know what would happen to her if she stayed with me. The thirst for revenge was that very same thing that brought her to Neverland in the first place. And I didn’t want to hurt her or destroy her with it. So I left her and it was wrong, but I can’t undo it anymore. So,” he clears his throat and it makes Emma uncomfortable that his eyes are reddened now. “That’s why I came back. Because I was reminded what happened the last time I left someone behind. I never seem to find the right balance between the honorable thing to do and my goal to finally kill Rumpelstiltskin. And even in that regard I make the wrong choices.” He gives Regina a short glance, before he focuses on his shoe tips again.

One of the stalactites starts to glow in a blue light.

“It works,” Emma notes, taking this as a sign that the confession of Hook was the reason behind it. Magic still is a weird concept to her, but she slowly starts to recognize it as a part of her life. And Neverland is clearly filled with magic.

“You want to kill him for what he’s done to … his wife?” David inquires after a few seconds of staring at the luminous stalactite.

Hook pinches the bridge of his nose. “Aye, I want to kill him for what he’s done toher. I don’t care if he’s the Dark One. Someone has to stop that monster. He destroyed my chance at happiness, why should he be allowed to have any? Surely the one and only Prince Charming will know what I am talking about?”

Emma witnesses how David slightly nods, casting a look at Snow, who keeps her gaze on Hook’s hunched form. His whole posture seems wrong, unlike him, something that doesn’t suit him well. She finds it easier to deal with a cocky Hook than with … this.

Hook shakes his head. “Alright, who’s next? Maybe the queen herself?”

Regina inspects her hand and takes a deep breath. She looks terrified. “If I must.” Still, she pretends to be her condescending self and Emma has the vague feeling that this whole adventure in this cave is going to leave deep scars on each of them. Every confession will hurt someone in this cave, maybe the person who is sharing his secret or someone who might be affected by that secret.

Regina worries her lower lip. “I am addicted to magic,” she confesses, though it’s no news to Emma.

Everyone immediately stares up.

“Nothing,” Hook says.

“I can see that,” Regina hisses back, clearly disappointed that this didn’t work out.

“It has to be something no one knows about. No one of the here present people or anywhere else. It has to be a secret.”

Regina huffs. “And what was your secret in the end?”

He flashes her a dangerous smile. “I never told anyone why exactly I left Tinkerbell behind. That was my darkest secret and now it’s out and that’s why it worked. So, your Majesty, think again. Something no one but you knows about.”

“And … dead people? Can they know about … the secret?”

Hook clears his throat after a beat while the rest of them just shift uncomfortably on their feet. “If you revealed the secret to a person that is now dead, then the secret died with that certain someone and you are safe to try it out,” he decides and it makes a lot of sense. There is even a saying about that.

Regina only nods.

Emma wonders what dark secret can make someone like Regina so extremely uncomfortable. Most of her sins are written down in Henry’s book (PG-13 rated, of course) and even the ones that were left out are known to a lot of people. What is she even going to confess?

“I was in love once. Deeply, madly in love with ... and he … he had to die because of that.” There are two, three shaky breaths before she continues. “But sometimes, when I think about Daniel, I am … _glad_ that he died and I shouldn’t be. Still, his death brought me Henry and he is my everything.”

She turns away from them, not seeing how more light descends from the ceiling.

Emma’s chest aches and she somehow wants to reach out, but she has no right to do it, because what does she know about love? Or losing it? Neal died when she had over ten years to get rid of him in her thoughts, as if he died the moment she got the handcuffs applied to her wrists. He died only days after coming to Storybrooke when she was certain she was over him. She told him she loved him shortly before he disappeared—a part of her always will be fond of him, there will be always an affectionate hue to their shared past. And without Neal, there wouldn’t be Henry.

Still, Regina’s loss is an entirely different story, not to mention the fact that this Daniel guy died like twice. Because Whale had to find a way back to his former self and be the infamous Doctor Frankenstein no one asked him to be.

At least that’s what Emma believes to be true. She doesn’t exactly know the whole story behind this.

“Maybe I should go on then,” David says with clear uncertainty in his deep voice, the muffled sobs of Regina still echoing through the cave. “I am mad about several things. Things I never mentioned, because we had a curse to worry about and we were expecting our first child. There was no time to bring it up again, but it still … bothers me.” He is addressing Snow White with that and no one is more surprised than Snow herself.

“What are you talking about?” Snow asks bewildered.

“I am angry with you, Snow,” he blurts out the second she finishes her question, meeting her confused gaze.

Snow holds her breath.

Regina swirls around, her red rimmed eyes wide.

Hook only raises his brow.

And Emma gapes at both of them.

“What?”

There are tears in David’s eyes and goddammit, no one warned her that there would be this emotional roller coaster waiting for them on this island, in this cave. “I am angry, because you went to Rumpelstiltskin’s cell before Emma was born and you told him her name, without talking with me about it. No, even worse. I told you not to tell him her name. I wasn’t okay with that! And yet you still did it. Because you made a stupid deal with him. I am certain the Blue Fairy would’ve known a thing or two about the planned curse as well, but we will never find that out. Now that I know that he spent his days in his prison, scribbling Emma’s name over and over again on a piece of paper? Well, it makes me wonder if the course of things could have been changed. If she didn’t have to be the savior in his grand plan.”

“There was no other—”

“Option? That’s not the only time you did it. Snow, why don’t you ever talk to me about these things? Why do you always need to do them on your own?”

Snow looks offended at being reminded of her own dark crime.

Regina still looks abashed by all of this.

More light comes from above, even though no one bothers to look up anymore.

Silence settles between them, embraces them and makes every heartbeat feel uneasy and tense. Emma closes her eyes. Snow doesn’t seem to be ready to spill her secret just yet so it is her turn.

And she really, really doesn’t want to.

But what choice does she have?

She plays with the shoelace around her wrist. “I am almost 30 years old. One would think this is an age where you start to feel really grown up, but I never felt like … _that_. I guess that happens when you didn’t really have a childhood. I had to grow up very fast, because there was no one looking after me, not really. Maybe that’s the problem. And sometimes I feel like … I am still a child, because I missed it back then and now my mind is trying to … make up for that. I dunno. I feel like a child, but not in the childish, ‘let’s play video games and watch Disney movies’ way. I feel like a lost, confused child with no parents.”

“But we’re right here,” David murmurs softly and gives her a tight smile.

Her stomach is one giant knot. “My secret is that even though I accepted that you are my parents, I sometimes forget that you are my _parents_. You sometimes feel more like really close friends or like my siblings, because we’re almost the same age and also because I was friends with Mary Margaret and after the curse broke she suddenly turned out to be my mother. And I don’t know most of the time how to behave around you, ‘cause a part of me still is used to get ditched the moment I am … the reason for trouble or because I did some crappy decisions. Which is really bad, because then I get back to feeling like an orphan and it makes everything so much worse! I told you that Regina wasn’t guilty of Archie’s murder yet you didn’t believe me and I didn’t argue with your decision to ask Gold for help, because I had just found you and we’d just returned from the Enchanted Forest and...” She can feel the tears rolling down her cheek, but she doesn’t bother to wipe the warm wetness away. She sobs, and breathes, and allows some more tears to leave her eyes. “I have found a family and friends, but I am still alone. Everyone just sees the Savior in me, but I don’t want to be that! I just want to be … me, even if that’s not what you wished for. I am no selfless hero. I am no perfect daughter or princess. And I should be more grateful to have found my parents at all, because most foster children usually don’t get that chance, but most of the time I just...”

She can feel everyone staring at her.

The shoelace feels scratchy on her skin.

“I just want it all to stop. I want to stop feeling like that. I want to stop feeling like everything needs to be solved by me. I just want to take a deep breath and … I don’t know. Just _live_. I have never really done that. I was always on the run, somehow,” Emma shrugs and now she feels a bit lighter and it’s more than she has ever hoped for. Another drip stone above their heads lights up.

The worst is now behind her, Emma thinks with relief rushing through her system. She catches Regina’s compassionate look before the brunette quickly averts her gaze. Of course. No one is allowed to see that Regina is actually a human being with emotions just like them.

She sighs and looks over to Snow.

“Only one more to go and the cave should open up again,” Hook says, the words directed to Snow.

Snow, who doesn’t meet her gaze.

Snow, who is as pale as snow flakes.

Snow, who gnaws at her lower lip, before finally casting a look in her direction, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.

And that’s when Emma knows.

This secret is about her.

And it’s going to hurt a lot. She tries to brace herself, but she can’t think right now and so she doesn’t know what kind of confession she should expect here. A bad one, sure, but what is it about? What will Snow accuse her of? Is this about her secret?

She swallows hard.

“I want to have another child and be a real mother,” Snow says in a voice thick with emotion. “Don’t get me wrong, Emma. I am so, so proud of you and my love for you and what you’ve done for us so far is _endless_. I will never find the right words to express how grateful I am to have you in my life. In our lives,” she corrects herself and reaches for David’s hand who readily obliges. “Never questions this.”

Emma can taste the upcoming ‘but’.

“But I never got the chance to be a real mother to you. I missed everything a mother, a real mother is supposed to see. Your first steps. Your first words. Your first drawings. Your first sickness. I wanted you to have the best life we could give you, but I couldn’t even properly hold you. I had to say goodbye to you after a few minutes and trust me, I hated it more than anything else.”

Of course she chooses this moment to give Regina a sharp look.

At least, Regina doesn’t try to hide her guilt this time.

Emma clenches and unclenches her fist. Something is telling her that Snow’s confession hasn’t reached the end yet, even though more light is coming down from the ceiling already. It will break her heart, she can feel it in her bones.

“I wish I had a choice back then, but we had to give you a real chance. So we sent you away. And now I have a wonderful, beautiful and smart daughter, but she’s all grown up and I never truly was a mother. That’s why I want to try it again. To have a second chance at being a mother.”

Emma feels like her three year old self that was given back to foster care.

She wants to yell that the stalactite already lit up, that she can stop now.

But no words leave her mouth.

She just weeps silently in front of all these people and she hates every second of it. She hates being this open, vulnerable but her own confession pulled out a whole set of past memories and the pain that comes with it.

Snow takes a deep breath and blinks bravely through her tears. “We couldn’t know for sure that we would see you again and that was the hardest part. Which is why I am so happy that you found us! We knew that the curse would break eventually, but we couldn’t trust if it would happen after 28 years with you finding us or your death shortly after we sent you away to a place we couldn’t even name, and so we had to get used to the idea to never see you again. Which was horrible. It was just too much in that night. And then _she_ appeared and almost killed David and—”

“Wait,” Emma interrupts breathlessly, her eyes wide. “The curse would have been broken if I died?”

David rubs his face and Snow looks mortified. “That’s not what—”

“You accepted that I could die. That sending me through that wardrobe could mean my death.” She feels even worse than her three year old self, because her past self was too dumb back then to truly understand and digest the pain of abandonment. But now she can very well understand the pain that is rushing through her body like poison. It feels like dying, except that she’s not even close to losing consciousness which would be a blessing right now. She just doesn’t want to deal with this new detail of her fucked up life.

It was the punch in the gut she never asked for. Her subconscious had been right; Snow’s confession did not only break her heart, it destroyed the slow and painfully built up trust in her parents. Because feeling alone and actually being alone among her parents and friends is a huge difference.

“Emma,” Snow sobs and comes closer, “it’s not like we _wanted_ you to die! We wanted you to live, to grow up and have a life! Everything the curse would have taken from you! We wanted you to have the best chance, just like you did with Henry!”

“With Henry? How dare you!” she snaps, already past the point of composure. “I gave him away, because I didn’t even have enough money to take care of _myself_! I gave him away, because I would’ve sucked as a mother, but even then, even the stupid 18 year old Emma Swan that had to rot in prison for a crime she never committed in the first place...” She is rudely interrupted by a violent sob. “Even that stupid girl wouldn’t have given him away if there were so much as a chance of possible death in the near future.

“And that’s what you basically did! If Pinocchio didn’t come with me through that fucking wardrobe, then I would have died because there was miles and miles around that spot we ended up at, nothing but woodland! _Woodland_!” she spats and Snow walks backwards, too shocked by Emma’s fury and rage to say anything to that. David just stares at her, as does Regina. Hook cleans his hook, obviously not interested in seeing the woman of his most likely existent wet dreams to be a broken piece of mess. “I would have died after hours, days and the stupid curse would’ve been broken, but worry not Fairy Tale Land, luckily Snow White and Prince Charming accepted that cruel fate for their daughter. And also, why not produce more children that don’t have to save the whole fucking population of the Enchanted Forest!”

Snow is on her knees know, crying bitter tears of remorse and guilt, but Emma is still too lost in her fury to care about that or David’s powerless voice and attempts to comfort his wife.

Oddly enough, she feels better now.

She wants them to feel hurt, too.

The pain of her past, every traumatic memory, every moment in her life that resulted in feeling left behind accumulates in this moment within her aching chest and seems to spread through her entire body.

“I don’t know … why you are yelling at … at us,” Snow hiccups, shaking her head. “You had to grow up without us, because of her!”

Regina embraces herself and glances at the dirty tips of her shoes.

Emma wants to laugh bitterly at that. “You had a choice, and you both decided what was best for all of you, for the whole town.”

“That’s not true. Stop twisting my words. We wanted to give _you—”_

 _“Then you would’ve kept me, even if that meant to never grow up and to never break the curse_!” she hisses and she knows that this is the truth. Rumpelstiltskin told them about her fate, her destiny to be a stupid savior and they blindly trusted his words, ruining her life because of them. A man as shady as him surely would’ve found a way how to break the curse he knows so much about. Eventually, he would’ve figured it out.

She turns around, finding the cave open again, except on the other end of the cave and does what she excels at.

She runs.


	6. Chapter 6

She doesn’t get far.

It’s like her legs just kinda give in and before she even really knows what is happening, she’s kneeling on the ground, her shaking hands digging in the dirt for nothing in particular. She doesn’t really register that she’s crying, her sobs are barely audible. She just sits there and allows the tears to float down.

It hurts.

It hurts to know that your parents were okay with you dying. It hurts to experience the same damn thing with your _real parents_. It’s not only the thing with the curse, no. Snow wants to have another child.

A child that will be the perfect princess she can never be.

A child that isn’t broken beyond repair.

A child that doesn’t run as soon as things get too difficult.

She leans forward, until her forehead touches the ground. She doesn’t care about anything. She doesn’t care if they are going to find her or not.

It doesn’t take long for her to lie flat on her stomach, breathing in the earthy scent of the jungle ground. Her head feels like there are too many people, too many voices shouting different things at her. People from the past, different foster parents and siblings, their faces and voices switching too fast to distinguish between them. She knows that her priority should be Henry and that she should concentrate on that, but she literally just broke down and it seems like there’s no fight left within her body to lift her up from the ground. Even if she tried.

Which she doesn’t.

She tried so, so much and for so long.

Emma stayed in Storybrooke, even after the curse broke. She didn’t run. She tried to be the daughter they wanted. She acted against her better judgment, she followed her parents’ advice to ask Rumpelstiltskin for help in that whole faked Archie murder and what she got was a betrayed queen, an open door for the Queen of Hearts and a lot of pain. She had had a bad feeling about this all along, but she just wanted … to belong. For once, she wanted to belong to someone, somewhere. To people who wouldn’t ditch her the moment they found a way to replace her with someone better than her. Or so she thought.

The worst thing is that she also can’t forget David’s secret.

Maybe she wouldn’t had have to be the fucking savior for everyone.

It starts to rain.

The darkness of the upcoming night is all around her.

Her mood couldn’t be represented any better right now.

#

“Are you done with lying on the ground?”

She knows that voice and sometimes she likes to pretend that she still hates that voice. “Go away, Regina.”

“Your parents aren’t here. Turns out the pirate was right, just got the details mixed up, that dingy inebriate. The clearing was behind that cave all along, not in front of it.”

Emma sighs, because that annoying woman. She turns to lie on her back, the sword on her side digging uncomfortably into her hip bone, but she doesn’t adjust her position. She is too numb from the rain and her mood to notice the pain. “I don’t really care.”

“I know. And what Snow did back in there was beyond—”

“No!” She sharply lifts her head, sits up and supports the weight of her upper body with her arms. “We’re not talking about that. At all. Like, don’t even look at me like that. I just don’t want to think about any of that right now. Especially not about what Snow said to me.”

Regina gives her a long look. “You just want to sit there in the dirt and do nothing? It seemed to be entertaining in Storybrooke, dear, but we’re not dealing with boring paperwork anymore.” She pauses to roll her eyes annoyed at the rain falling down on them. “That was not our deal, Emma.”

“We have a deal?” She is genuinely surprised, if not a bit annoyed by the way Regina points another of her shortcomings out. It’s enough to get her to her feet and cross her arms in a defensive manner in front of her chest. “What deal?”

“Our deal on the ship, dear.”

“Oh.”

“As you may have noticed, I am not actually planning to go back to that camp with the two idiots and that drunken pirate,” she continues, pointing at her duffel bag and then waves with her hand in the direction where the clearing obviously is.

Emma has no idea. She didn’t exactly pay attention to her surroundings while she was bringing some distance between her and her parents and that whole fucked up situation.

“I … didn’t.”

“I told them I would bring some firewood. I lied.” She seems oddly smug about that.

“How awful,” Emma mimics with false dismay getting the hood of her jacket back in place. “How will they deal with your loss? Oh, I know, maybe they’ll start trying for a goddamn new child. A perfect addition to their little family tree!”

Okay, maybe she wants to talk about that.

Or yell about it.

Sometimes it’s a good thing that Regina is able to keep a straight face even in times like these. She just blinks and the only indication that she _cares_ is hidden in her dark eyes. “Rumpelstiltskin is a part of that family tree, so the perfection went away with that discovery.”

Emma stares.

There is a lot of warmth in her chest, warmth that shouldn’t be there. But it is. And it is mocking her, because she is convinced that Regina doesn’t mean any of these words as comfort, but it works. Somehow, she feels a tiny little better.

Well enough to chuckle at that. “I am glad you have your priorities in check and decided to focus on that part of my outburst. The fucked up family tree.” A pang of guilt and bitter sadness creeps into her heart, because _Neal_. He is dead and while she told him she loved him—and a part of her clearly still does, because _Henry_ —he’s a large part of the whole damn problem that just placed itself right in front of her.

The sad vicious circle of Emma Swan.

Regina arches her brow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So, Henry?” She gets to her feet and adjusts the backpack on her back that is now probably covered in dirt and fallen leaves. Not to mention the squashed food in there. Not her problem, it’s not even her backpack.

It’s Regina’s.

Emma hopes she won’t be around when the former Evil Queen finds out about the possible damage to her backpack.

Regina, oblivious to any of that, smiles her secret little smile. The one that is reserved for her son. “Henry.”

#

When Henry wakes up from whatever Tamara put in that brownie he ate, he tries to blink and get a better grip on the changed reality, but he can’t. _Blindfolded_ , he thinks after a few seconds of breathless confusion, on the brink of a panic attack.

He swallows and that’s when he notices that he’s standing, but not really because he seems to be tied up to something. It feels vaguely like a tree from what he can tell. His back is pressed flat against it and the ropes make it a little bit difficult for him to breath properly.

“He is awake, I guess,” an unknown voice whispers.

Henry furrows his brows. The voice sounds young, but older than him. A boy. And there is deep respect hidden in that whisper.

“Good,” says another male voice, deeper and with a sharp edge to it. “What’s your name, boy?” The voice comes closer, close enough that his breath tingles on Henry’s cheek.

Henry feels the tightening in his throat and the drumming of his heart. He is too terrified, too anxious about the change of things to utter out his name. He just breathes unevenly in and out and if it weren’t for the tight ropes holding him against the tree or wooden pylon or whatever, he would be trembling a lot more by now.

“I asked you something. What’s your name and how did you get on my island?” A hand grips his chin and turns it slightly to the left.

Another breath brushes his face.

God, he really is too young to worry about death and aneurysms caused by stress and heart attacks. But here he is, fearing for his life. “Henry,” he finally manages to rasp out and the hand lets go of his jaw.

“Henry. Doesn’t ring a bell, does it, Felix?”

“No,” is the quiet response of Felix. It is crystal clear who is in charge and who silently obeys commands. Henry wonders where Greg and Tamara are and why they allowed this to happen.

“Did the others talk?”

Others?

“The woman doesn’t know much, obviously the man did most things. And he doesn’t want to talk to anyone but you, Pan.”

 _Peter Pan_.

This is Peter Pan?

He sounds evil. Henry attempts to stay as calm as possible, but he knows damn well that Greg and Tamara wanted to bring him to Pan’s camp. Why both are suddenly captured, too, is beyond him. Maybe there is a misunderstanding. Or Greg miscalculated his own actions and they aren’t as welcome as he assumed. They did fight about that, after all. Henry doesn’t really care, though. He just wants to know what’s going to happen next and how the hell he’s supposed to find a way out of this madness.

“Henry,” Pan returns to him. “Did the two grown-ups accompanying you tell you what they are doing on my island?”

Henry doesn’t miss the possessive tone in that sentence. He feels weird, not being able to see a character he knows only from the Disney movie, while said character interrogates him about his kidnappers. He already expected (and feared) the differences between the movie and reality, but everything turns out to be worse than imagined. God, no. “They didn’t. I don’t know. They told me that they would bring me to your camp, that’s all I was told.”

“To me? As a gift? A sacrifice? An apology? Talk, boy!”

“I don’t know!” he says and he barely feels his hands anymore, because the ropes are too tight and cutting his bloodstream off.

There is a moment of silence. “What do you say?” The way Pan’s voice sounds a bit distant, Henry guesses that he turned his head to look at his friend, Felix.

“I’d say he speaks the truth,” the other boy says after a beat.

Pan sighs. “So do I, unfortunately. Untie him and take the blindfold off.”

“As you wish.”

#

They walk him to their camp. They don’t talk much, Pan and Felix.

Which is good.

There is something about Pan that fills Henry with dread. Not only are his eyes yellow and circled with dark shadows, the vicious look in them gives Henry the creeps. Felix seems to be the lesser evil, except that he is absolutely loyal to Pan and the only thing that Henry really would like to know about him is how he got that scar across his pale face.

When they arrive, Pan smiles at Henry. “I take you don’t like these two people, hm?”

Henry sees Tamara and Greg sitting each in their own cage made out of bamboo shoots. “Not really, no,” Henry says slowly, because the good part in him protests. He knows that something bad is about to happen and even though he really doesn’t like them, he fears the effects his answer will have. Will they die? He doesn’t know how to deal with the knowledge of being responsible for death by any chance.

He doesn’t know how to handle any of this, really.

Greg barely acknowledges his arrival, his face scrunched into the mask of a defeated man. Tamara on the other hand eyes him with open curiosity. It’s astonishing how she is in reality the strong part out of the two of them.

Pan comes closer, studying his two victims. There are other boys, hooded and staring ahead with blank expressions. The Lost Boys, maybe, Henry thinks with growing discomfort. Every boy is holding a spear, a bow or a burning torch.

“See, I am really, really interested in the story of you three,” Pan starts, stopping in front of Tamara’s cage for a moment. “Your young friend, Henry, couldn’t really help me with my problem. I still don’t know how you managed to enter the island without being hindered by my protection spell all around the areas I rule about.”

“That’s because there isn’t one anymore,” Greg gives back and glares at Pan.

He walks slowly to his cage. “What did you say, peasant?”

“We could enter the island, because you fucked up. There is no stupid protection spell.” Greg crawls closer, gripping feverishly at the wooden bars. “I didn’t even feel a tiny buzz when I walked into the jungle,” he gloats with a condescending grin.

Greg is obviously trying to pursue his secret death wish. There is no other explanation for such blatant antagonizing of Pan.

“Liar! Tell me how you circumvent my spell!” Pan spits out and jolts to the cage with one swift motion.

“Your magic is weakening, isn’t it, Shadow? You don’t even recognize me,” Greg continues to taunt the boy. Tamara hisses something that Henry doesn’t understand but her tense shoulders speak volumes.

Henry sees how Pan’s eyes grow wide and look frantically around. “That’s impossible. This is my island. I am the King of Neverland. I am the king of this island!”

“That may be the case, yes. But my point still stands and you know that it’s true. Deep down you’ve known it for a long, long time, haven’t you?” Greg lowers his voice to a dangerous whisper. “You’ve known it since you sent me away, back to the Land Without Magic, merely minutes after we met.”

“Greg, don’t provoke him,” Tamara warns him and gives him a sour look, but he seems not to notice. His eyes are fixed on Pan’s close face.

Henry doesn’t like the silence that is loaded with recognition. Greg really has been on this island before, a long time ago. Perhaps even before Henry was born. Which is a really creepy thing.

“You told me to come back when I find a weak spot in the fairy tale, and I did. Time to make good on your promise, Shadow.”

Pan paces around, outraged by the mere thought that his magic or spell could’ve lost its power or that he owes this man something. Henry wonders why Greg referred to Pan as ‘Shadow’. Is that supposed to be a mocking nickname? And why pick that one then?

“Pan, maybe that’s why the cannibals are roaming through our jungle,” Felix throws in and Pan’s shoulders sag down a bit.

“They shouldn’t be on the island in the first place,” he mumbles and then he simply strides away with big, fluent movements.

“Hey!” Greg yells. “Come back! You promised me! You _promised_ to help me should I deliver what you desire most. That boy? He’ll change your fate, asshole! Just come back and free me!”

Tamara sighs.

The crowd of Lost Boys around the cages disperse into various directions, just two of them staying behind to guard the two prisoners. One of them is holding a bow and an arrow arranged to it and ready to aim at anyone who doesn’t behave.

Henry looks at Felix.

Felix looks at Henry.

“How about some new clothes?”

He just nods, because he hasn’t showered in days and he’s been walking around in these clothes for quite some time and also everything is better than staying there, among the other boys with their empty faces and the two cages, entrapping the very same people who kidnapped him.

“Follow me.”

#

Felix is rather queit, but not in an unfriendly way. He just likes to watch things instead of commenting on them, Henry thinks, and it doesn’t bother him the slightest. Sometimes silence can be nice rather than complicated or tense. It’s not the kind of silence he used to share with his mom, before Emma broke the curse, before things started to change for the better once his mom tried to redeem herself.

He clears his throat, an attempt to swallow that burning lump, but it isn’t really working.

He focuses on the slim path they are walking on.

Actually, the place looks not as unfriendly as the other parts of the jungle he has seen, even though the volcano now seems to be practically right in front of them. He averts his gaze and concentrates on the lanterns hanging low from the branches. Rope bridges are connecting the tall trees with each other and there, on the same level, are a few tree houses seemingly placed there by accident or blown up with the wind.

It’s kinda awesome, he has to admit.

They stop in front of a tree.

“That will be your home for now, until Pan decides what to do with you,” Felix tells him and points at the ladder and the tree house above their heads. He seems different now. The fear is out of his blue eyes and he even attempts to smile a little. It seems a bit rusty and Henry doesn’t even want to know how often they get to smile around here. Ugh. Also, that scar is distracting him and it’s hard not to stare.

Henry starts to climb, Felix follows him.

The tree house isn’t very big. Enough for one person, but that’s just perfect. Henry really doesn’t need to share a room with a stranger who probably knows more ways to kill him than he ever will. There is just a simple bed, a table and a cut out hole in the wall. A window, obviously.

“Here,” Felix says and reaches behind his shoulder to set his backpack down (that was the entire time hidden underneath his dark cloak it seems) and takes out a pair of black leather pants, boots that aren’t even his size and a gray tunic with a broad belt. “I’ll get you something to eat and drink. Stay here, get changed and don’t try to run. You won’t get far, trust me on that.”

“I won’t,” Henry promises and tentatively touches the new clothes that somebody prepared for him. Maybe he’s safe for the time being in that camp.

Felix disappears with a final short nod.

#

The food turns out to be rice with beans and a waterskin filled with cold water. In Storybrooke, he complained every time he had to eat beans, but now he’s too hungry to care. He wolves down the meal like there is no tomorrow (and there are enough reasons to assume that there _might_ not be a tomorrow for him, even with the new clothes and that tree house he got).

The new clothes are soft and make the heat more endurable. The boots take some getting used to, but he won’t complain. He feels more like a knight on a mission, just because of this wardrobe change.

Felix left him shortly after bringing him the meal—Henry still hasn’t figured out how that boy managed to carry both the plate and the waterskin while climbing the ladder—and now Henry has some time for himself.

He lies down and listens to the squalls of apes in the distance.

Well, he hopes that these are the cries of apes and not cannibals.

He closes his eyes and falls quickly asleep. It’s still night, after all.

#

“How about that little hill, up there?” Emma suggests and points to the right.

“To be on a silver plate for potential threats? A wonderful idea, Miss Swan.”

“Seriously, I don’t have the patience for your shit tonight, so cut the crap and find a better place to stay, because my legs won’t support my weight for much longer and then I’ll just sleep where we are right at that moment.”

Regina rolls with her eyes, looks over to the hill, looks back at Emma and gives in. “Fine. Have it your way,” she sighs as if it is hard to even think about surrendering. For someone like Regina, it very well might be. The former queen certainly isn’t used to restrain herself.

Emma hopes for her own sake that this hill will offer a good place to rest for the night. The jungle is even more terrifying now that it is dark and only the moon is affording them enough light to not trip over every obstacle in their way. Or in her way, because Regina has that irritating talent to walk gracefully as ever through the jungle, as if she has never done anything else in her life.

Her boots have heels.

She checked twice.

Like, how.

Emma’s boots are flat and sometimes it doesn’t need much and she’s almost lying face first on the ground.

They reach the top of that hill and stop.

“Regina?”

“Yes?” It sounds a little bit breathless and that is a good thing, because at least when it comes to condition Emma beats her. Not by much, and it’s entirely her own fault, because why did she ever believe that eating so many bear claws would be a good idea? But still.

“Do you see what I see?”

“If you are referring to that Indian tribe and their teepees, then yes, I do see the same thing.”

Emma turns her head slightly and smiles. “Do you think they are friendly?”

“Wait, we’re not going there. It could be the Cannibal’s Cove,” Regina contradicts and crosses her arms.

Emma pales. “Cannibals?” Holy fucking shit, this has to be a joke. “You are not serious right now, are you?”

Regina remains silent.

“Oh, god.”

“I doubt that he will help you should a cannibal cross your way, one day.”

Emma just glares. “So, what are we going to do?” she decides to change the subject, because really. That woman knows how to annoy her in the most unfortunate moments. She’s tired, hungry and still pretty angry. Not to mention the constant high level of motherly worry hammering in her chest. It’s new and raw and it hurts.

Before Regina can sass anything snarky back, the bushes rustle behind them and two figures appear behind them. Two men and one woman, all of them armed with bow and arrow.

The Indians have found them.

“Kind of hate receiving answers to my questions like that,” she grumbles and ignores Regina’s annoyed look. Three arrows are pointing at her.

Of course they are.

Is a goddamn break too much to ask?


	7. Chapter 7

Henry wakes with a start. There is no real explanation why he jumped awake, but here he is, sitting on his bed and breathing hard. For a second he doesn’t understand his new surroundings and it takes a few more ragged breaths to remember.

Greg and Tamara.

Pan’s camp and the Lost Boys.

Henry rubs his forehead, yawns and gets up. He stretches and enjoys the feeling of well rested muscles in his back. Compared to the hard ground of the jungle, this bed is as soft as a cloud. He smoothes down his wrinkled clothes and admires them once again. Then he climbs into his boots and looks out of the window.

White, dense fog embraces the tree trunks and makes the jungle look like a part of a melancholic dreamland. He finds the water skin and takes a few sips out of it before he decides to leave his tree house.

The moment he steps to the ladder, Felix’s blond hair shows up, followed by sad blue eyes. “Are you alright?” he whispers, placing his hand on the step and heaving the rest of his body up.

Henry knows that something is wrong. “Yeah. Why?”

Felix holds something in his other hand, something that is wrapped in old brown rags. “Pan isn’t feeling well today. And for some reason the Lost Boys left us. But that shouldn’t worry us now, Henry. Here,” he says and holds out to him whatever is hidden underneath the dirty cloth.

Henry takes it with both hands, a bit surprised by the weight of it. He takes the wrapping off and gazes down at the object revealed in his hand.

“A crossbow?”

“And a quiver with bolts,” Felix smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. His serious semblance never fades, his pale face always expresses some kind of worry or thoughtfulness. “I suggest you attach the quiver to that belt of yours and with these adjustable straps you can fasten the cross bow to your back.”

Henry is more than just confused. He feels how his face contorts into a bewildered frown. “Why do I need a weapon?”

Felix makes a penitent noise in the back of his throat. “A lot changed in the night, Henry. But before I tell you the story, how about a little breakfast?” He nods to the crossbow and the belts in Henry’s hand. “Let me help you with this first.”

Henry doesn’t complain and just nods.

#

There are muffled voices.

Pain in her shoulders.

The smell of smoke and some unknown herbs and apples.

 _Wait_.

“Regina?” She blinks a few times, looking around her to find nothing but dry ground that doesn’t belong in a jungle. And she isn’t in that jungle anymore, the air is less humid and filled with warmth. Rays of sunlight touch her face and for the split of a second the urge to close the eyes again and simply enjoy this feeling is very strong. But Regina. She has to find Regina.

She remembers then.

The Indians. The arrows aimed at her. And then—nothing. Everything went dark.

“Your friend is not awake, yet,” a female voice replies, an unfamiliar accent resonating with her words. “She isn’t feeling well.”

Emma looks up. A woman, roughly her age, looks at her with an earnest expression in her face. Her long dark hair moves in the soft breeze coming from behind and her short dress is made out of some animal skin.

She feels how her heart rate quickens together with her breathing. “What do you mean? Where is she? What have you done to her?” She gets louder with every question and tries to get to her feet but finds herself unable to do so. Her hands are tied together behind her back—the reason for her back pain, obviously—and she can’t move her feet as well. She furrows her brows at the woman. “What the hell?”

“We’re just being cautious. You’re too old to be from Pan’s part of the island, yet the men of our nightwatch claim that you came from east. Is that right?”

A part of Emma wonders where that woman learned to speak English, but then again magic is real and she killed a dragon and Regina’s mother tried to rip her heart out, so there’s that. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, we’ve just arrived here.”

“How?”

“With a ship. Captain Hook’s ship.”

A dark shadow crosses the woman’s face and Emma knows that there won’t be a time she will name the pirate’s identity and someone will smile in delight. That man just manages to annoy every person he meets on his eternal journey for vengeance. “This … person is no longer welcome in our tribe.”

“What did he do?” Emma is curious now. She needs more ammo to fire back should he attempt to flirt with her again. “Insult your family? You?”

“He stole our herbs and rum,” the woman says with a heavy sigh.

Emma chuckles. “Sounds like him, I guess.” She jolts at her restraints. “Okay, I know this sounds lame and—”

“Lame?”

“Uh, well, I meant not very convincing, but I am really not here to steal anything from you.”

“Are you sure? Your friend told us you were a thief.”

_That annoying piece of—_

“She better also have mentioned that I am the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and that people usually call me ‘the Savior’?” Hopefully, for once in her life, that title would be useful for a change. Not a burden, but a joker to get her out of trouble. Though, it isn’t horrible right now. Okay, so she can’t move and her bladder is protesting and she is really, really hungry, but the woman in front of her isn’t threatening her. She merely asks a few questions and that is understandable. They are both, Regina and she, strangers to this tribe.

The woman raises her eyebrows. “She said something about ‘the daughter of two idiots’. I have no idea what she meant by ‘idiots’, though.”

“Not really important right now,” she quickly relents. “How about you set me free and bring me to my … friend or whatever?”

The woman just smiles knowingly.

Ugh, no.

#

“The right posture is the most important thing,” Felix tells him, holding Henry’s crossbow in his slim hands, his longer fingers touching the trigger. “And be prepared for the recoil after you pulled the trigger.”

“Is that why I have to wear this … leather thing here?” Henry touches his right shoulder. He had to put this leather pad on without getting any real explanation.

“You mean the pauldron? That’s just for your safety. Actually, the recoil is not that hard. More often than not the crossbow tends to jerk a bit forward so it is important for you to keep the following in mind: hold it here with a tight grip and you should be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Let me show you how it looks like, then you can try it a few times on your own.”

Henry nods.

Felix smiles and throws his dark hood back to have a better view on the round target nailed to a tree. He gets into the position he explained before, straight back, the crossbow touching his right shoulder and his head slightly tilted to have a better aim at the center of the target. He takes a few deep breaths before he holds it and then he pulls the trigger and the bolt rushes through the air, hitting the red circle in the middle of the round board. He makes a sound of delight in the back of his throat. “Did you see that?”

Henry comes closer. “That was awesome,” he tells him, eyeing the weapon with awe.

“Here,” the blond boy encourages him, preparing the crossbow for the next shot. “Remember: posture, aim and breathing.”

“Got it.”

The next hour is spent with shooting, laughing about mishaps and talking about how Felix learned to use a crossbow.

“This is Neverland,” he begins. “It is better to be prepared for any kind of danger.”

Henry thinks about Tamara and Greg and their talk about cannibals. “Is it true that there is a cannibalistic tribe?”

Felix distorts his mouth. “It does exist, yes. But there is no need to worry. Whatever the two grown-ups told you, Pan’s protection spell is too powerful to be broken by these people. Or animals,” he shrugs with his shoulder, pulling once again the bolts out of the target. “They can’t enter the protected part of this island, but it is simply safer to know how to use a weapon.”

“And where are the other Lost Boys this morning?” Of course, Henry noticed this after a few minutes of their practice but his mind was too occupied with the right breathing technique and posture that he didn’t ask him that right away.

“Busy,” is the only reply he gets. Felix’s pale face looks serious again. “Come along, let’s have a break. Do you like apples?”

Henry smiles and follows him, but deep down he feels like crying.

Yes, he likes apples.

He just pretended for a long while that he didn’t like them, just to hurt the woman who always asked him if he wanted one after she picked some apples from her tree.

#

Emma walks behind the woman who introduced herself as Pocahontas right after she freed her from her restraints. Her wrists are a bit sore but otherwise she’s fine. She was handed something to eat, an orange and something that tasted like honeydew.

She tries not to stare, but that’s impossible. The male members of the tribe only wear a loincloth and their skin is painted in dark colors with white pattern or handprints covering their bare chests. Their mohawk haircut is richly decorated with feathers. The women are similarly clothed like Pocahontas, most of them aren’t painted at all or just dark pattern on the back of their hands, their bare shoulders or feet.

And they stare back.

At her blonde hair.

Her pale skin.

She hurries after Pocahontas. “Why are they looking at me?”

“They think you are a ghost,” she chuckles.

Emma rolls her eyes. And prays to the gods that Pocahontas will keep that to herself and not tell it to the former Evil Queen. “Why wasn’t she tied up next to me? You said she isn’t feeling well?”

Pocahontas nods. “We don’t know what is wrong with her. She’s very pale, weak and she won’t eat. She has a fever. Sometimes she murmurs names, but it’s hard to understand them. We heard the name ‘Henry’ quiet often.”

“That’s the name of my son. Her son. Our son,” Emma corrects herself, before catching Pocahontas incredulous gaze. “What?”

“You share a son with that woman?”

Oh, shit.

“No.”

“But that’s what you just said.”

“I didn’t.”

Pocahontas laughs. “You are a strange woman, Emma Swan.”

Emma puts the last orange slice into her mouth and says nothing. The path seems to guide them through the whole tribe, but then, finally, Pocahontas stops in front of a big teepee that is guarded by a man with a spear and black handprints on his chest. She says something in her mother tongue, making weird gestures with her hands and bowing down slightly.

The man nods and steps aside.

“Follow me.”

There is not much space left in that teepee. It takes Emma some seconds to find Regina, lying on a sickbed. The fever is back and her previous playful retorts about this woman suddenly make her feel sick to her stomach. “How long has she been like this?”

“After you insulted Kocoum, his little brother and Nakoma they brought you here, to our camp. She didn’t feel good by then and you were unconscious.”

“I wonder why,” Emma grumbles, knowing that it’s her own fault. Yeah, she remembers calling one of the Indians ‘a smelly donkey’ and that’s perhaps not the smartest move to make. The back of her head still hurts.

She steps closer to the bed, sitting down on the log and touching tentatively Regina’s forehead. It’s burning.

“We gave her something against the fever, don’t worry. Although, it seems to be something else than a simple fever.”

Emma only nods.

She won’t tell Pocahontas the true reason for Regina’s condition, because she can’t know for sure how much these Indians know about the history of the Enchanted Forest and what would happen to them if she started to explain that the former Evil Queen was a magic addict.

Seems like her withdrawal flared up again. She just doesn’t know what triggered it. Sighing she takes the wet cloth out of the bowl. “Can I stay here?”

“Sure. I’ll be back with something to eat. And afterwards, my father wishes to speak a word with you.”

“Your father?” Emma’s gaze returns to Pocahontas tanned face. “Why?”

“He is our tribal leader and wants to ask you a few questions. Worry not, my friend, he won’t do you any harm. We know that you are no allies of Pan.”  
Emma wrings out the cloth. “How?”

“If you live for as long as we have on that island you get an eye for friends and foes,” she winks and leaves the teepee before Emma can even stutter some kind of reply. She shakes her head.

And returns to her task. “I told we should’ve stopped earlier, you stubborn woman.”

Regina’s doesn’t even stir.

#

“These people…” Felix starts after chewing the last slice of his apple. “Why are they here?”

Henry is very well aware that this is an interrogation, yet he doesn’t see a reason to not answer his questions. He doesn’t have many answers to offer, though. “I don’t really know. It’s … complicated. My mom killed Greg’s father and—”

“I know,” Felix interrupts him softly. “He has been here already, as a little boy. Scared and lonely, just like most Lost Boys. But the Shadow decided not to keep him. For days he would leave Peter’s body and not return with the boy.”

Henry almost chokes on the bite from his apple. “Wait, the Shadow? He is a separate thing from Peter Pan?”

“A demon, you could say. He’s using Peter’s body for the lack of a better option. He was a human being, once. Long before magic, dark, greedy magic ruined his life.” Felix voice drops a little more. “It is whispered that he is on this island to plan his revenge on those who betrayed him and took his happy ending from him.”

Henry swallows. “Somebody killed his love?” That’s the most obvious option. He has to think of Emma and Neal’s death. He clearly remembers Emma’s face while telling him what happened in the cannery. And while Tamara’s words about choices and consequences hold some truth in them, they’re successfully covering up the fact that there is always a good and a bad choice.

Felix shakes his head, playing with the peel of his fruit. “No, not that kind of happy ending. Maybe the term ‘happy ending’ is too strong for this one. He simply wanted to get his body back, but he never got the chance to put his plans into motion. Something stopped him. Someone.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why he uses Peter’s body as some sort of substitute body. It’s not ideal and whenever he leaves him, Peter feels terrible; not in the beginning, but after one, two days he starts to feel weak and sick.”

“Does he leave him often?”

“Seldom, most of time only when children call for him.”

“They call for him?”

“Yes. They say ‘I believe’ out loud while really believing in a better life and that’s when the Shadow appears seemingly out of nowhere and snatches them out of their miserable lives.”

Henry takes another bite. “What about their parents?” he chews, wondering if he could’ve left his mom and Storybrooke behind, just like that, even in times when he felt unloved by the Evil Queen who cursed an entire town just to get her revenge on Snow White.

Felix smiles sadly at him. “Most of them don’t have any,” he informs him. “That’s why they are perfect for that island and to the Shadow—no one’s left to mourn their disappearance. No one who asks questions or comes after them.”

Henry looks at the core of his apple. “They will come,” he whispers, because he can’t help himself and feel certain about this.

“Who? Greg and his lady friend? They didn’t ask once for you.”

“No, my moms.”

Felix looks a bit lost here. “Moms?”

“My mother and Emma, my birth-mother.”

The blond shrugs. “You are not trapped on this island, technically. Should they come for you then you are one lucky boy, Henry.”

“Why … are you here?”

That seems to be the wrong question. Or not, because Felix thinks only for a few moments, before he starts to answer. “I was an orphan in London and Peter Pan saved me. That’s why I am so loyal to him and don’t question him. I owe him my life.”

“And the other boys?”

“They were brought by the Shadow and thus their loyalty belongs to him and him only.”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” He plays with the knife he used to peel his apple and looks back at Henry. “Don’t worry the Shadow has no power over you. You’re safe here.”

He smiles back, because he needed this reassurance really, really bad. Breathing feels easier now. “Okay,” he whispers and finishes his apple.

#

Some time later, Emma is standing in front of the tribal leader, Pocahontas’ father, who has also a mohawk haircut but there are deep red feathers woven in his dark strands of hair. Something like a splinter is going through his nose and there are dark dots and lines in his face. His clothes are more colorful than the clothes of the tribe in general.

Pocahontas bows her head down and makes some gestures with her hands Emma comes to recognize as a sort of greeting. She doesn’t dare to try to copy them, because she would only embarrass herself.

“My daughter,” he greets her with warmth in his voice and a heavy accent. Emma knows that he is doing this in her favor. The men and women around them keep staring at her and she hates the feeling of being in the spotlight. She’d rather disappear in the masses than be in the center of attention.

But there is no avoiding this. “Father,” Pocahontas says with an audible smile in her warm voice. Emma can’t see her face because she’s standing right behind her, hoping that this matter will take like only five minutes. At most.

“I see, you brought our guest,” he continues and his smile vanishes, but the gaze remains friendly. “My name is Chief Powhatan and I am the leader of this tribe.” Still, he is sitting cross-legged in front of her and watching her and she remains on high alert. “You are the Savior?”

Of course. Of course that’s how the conversation would start. It’s hard not to roll her eyes. “Yes,” she simply nods and hears the whispering around her. Great. She feels like the foster kid in cheap clothes in the school’s hallway.

“And who is your friend?”

Should she lie?

“She’s … the mayor of Storybrooke, a town in another realm,” she answers and it is true. There is a town and Regina is the mayor there. “The Land Without Magic?” she tries when she meets the man’s confused dark eyes.

Recognition shines in his eyes. “Ah, yes. I understand, I understand. And what are you doing here, in Neverland?”

This is her chance to shine. They swallowed the white lie about Regina and now she might get some information about their son. (Their son? From enemies to frenemies to co-parents in no time. Hopefully no bird sees this and is going to chirp this to Snow.)

“We’re looking for a 11 year old boy, his name is Henry. He’s … well, he’s my son,” she decides to say, because she damn well knows what ‘our son’ implies and dear god, she doesn’t want to go through a similar situation like with Pocahontas again. The young woman smiles at her, as if she’s able to read her mind.

Maybe she can.

Fantastic.

“He was taken by two people, a man and a woman. Do you know something about him or have you heard something about a boy that arrived a few days ago?”

Chief Powhatan makes humming noises, losing himself in his thoughts. The rest of the tribe—because she’s sure the whole tribe gathered around them in front of the leaders teepee—is silent, but the whispering continues in her head. She feels really uncomfortable.

Finally, the man answers. “I am not sure, my child. We found no boy, but a man. Dark hair and a wound we cannot heal.”

Her heart stops.

“We have no idea what kind of weapon caused his injury,” Pocahontas adds. “It’s like a hole and it won’t really stop bleeding.”

 _No_. She gasps and her heart is drumming in her chest. Excitement, fear and confusion mix up to a cocktail of overextension. “Did he … his name,” she rasps out. “Did he say a name?”

Pocahontas nods, concern coloring her pretty features. “Neal. He said his name is Neal.”

 _Merry fucking Christmas, Swan_.


	8. Chapter 8

When they return from their archery range, the first thing Henry notices is the silence and the lack of chatter. The Lost Boys never really talk much, but the silence is filling the air, almost as thick as the humid stickiness that is flooding his lungs. It’s like breathing water.

Felix stops and freezes on the spot. “Bloody hell!” His gaze is glued to the open cages.

They are empty.

Both.

Henry lowers his shoulders. He knows that this is a situation where Emma would’ve cursed by now. And his mom? Well, she’d probably make this ‘I am going to set something on fire’ face that he never really liked. But now he painfully misses both things. He misses normalcy.

“Where are the others?”

Felix doesn’t respond.

“Felix,” he tries again, because there is nothing else to do and also this is kinda important. “Why are the Lost Boys all gone?”

Still no answer. And then: “The Shadow,” comes the broken whisper, followed by a gasped “Peter?”

Without checking if Henry is following him or not, Felix is sprinting ahead, his cloak flying behind him. Henry tries to keep up with his pace but he’s not used to the additional weight on his back and so he is some steps behind. He doesn’t call out for him to wait, though.

Something is wrong and there is no time for this.

“Peter,” Felix whispers again and falls to his knees.

Henry cranes his neck to get a better view. And he wishes he didn’t do it the same moment. “Oh my…”

Peter Pan is sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree with a pale face and a bloody sword in his hands. There is blood everywhere; his hands, his dark green tunic. Henry feels sick. “It has … begun, Felix,” Pan trembles, his breathing labored and uneven.

Felix crouches down next to him, inspecting a wound on Pan’s shoulder. “Just a scrape,” he murmurs, looking at Henry. “Go back to the fire place. There is a table, you should find a bowl there and if you’re lucky even some ripped clothes. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Henry nods with a shaky voice, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. He runs to the fireplace, but he has to stop midway to empty his stomach once the  realization hits him.

This couldn’t be only Pan’s blood.

#

Neal looks more dead than alive. Emma isn’t sure why she’s even in this teepee, holding a candle and watching his sweaty face twitch in his feverish sleep. His bare chest is covered with bandages, partly soaked with blood and the bitter-fresh smell of herbs is filling the small tent.

Pocahontas touches her shoulder lightly. “Take your time.” Then she’s gone and Emma is alone, just her and the sad little candle in her hand.

She shouldn’t be here. But it’s the right thing to do, right? To be at the side of the person you claimed to love before they disappeared in a magical portal, bringing them here? She sighs and stands awkwardly next to his bed. His chest is lifting and lowering, a bit too quickly maybe. She has no idea. Her medical knowledge comes from _Emergency Room_ and _Grey’s Anatomy_. She knows that there is a lot of running if there is a case of cardiac arrest. And she knows how to put a bandage on after all those times she had to do it to herself.

God, what a sad life she’d led in her past.

“Hey,” she whispers, because not talking feels even more awkward than saying something to him. “You’re not dead,” she continues, immediately biting the tip of her tongue. _Smooth move, Swan_.

Neal continues to do nothing but barely breathing.

“We’re in Neverland, can you believe that? Though, you’ve been here already, right? Don’t tell me, I actually don’t want to think about your actual age. I am sure it has at least one figure too much at the end.” Her pathetic attempt at a joke makes her chuckle, but it’s a nervous chuckle, one that gets stuck in her throat and dies down. “Still no sign of Henry. Your maniac ex and her lover kidnapped him and they’re here, somewhere. Regina is ill or something and I don’t know how long we have to stay here. Which sucks, because I can’t really stop thinking about him and now with Regina knocked out I have no one to distract me from my worries. Ugh, that came out wrong.” She shivers and watches the flame dancing with her breath. She can see the black wick and it calms her down to watch the flame for a while. “I hope you know that a part of me will always love you for the home you’ve been to me over 11 years ago and also for giving me Henry. But that’s it. And I wish you wouldn’t be dying so you could help us finding Henry, but when do I get what I want?”

She thinks about her parents and fate and curses. About revenge and redemption. And about magic. “I have to go. You see, I kinda promised Regina to keep an eye on her so…” Oh, it’s pointless to talk to him.

She hesitates, casting one last look at Neal’s in pain contorted face and leaves the teepee with the candle and the sinking feeling that no matter how hard she tries to tell herself that this is nothing to be hopeful about, that she actually believed him to be dead, there is still a part of her that hopes for a miracle.

With a quick pace she walks in a beeline to the teepee where Regina rests. It’s the one Pocahontas is standing in front of. “Your friend is awake and she doesn’t want to have me in there. But she has to eat,” she urges her and hands her a plate with flatbread and something like tapenade. She also gets a waterskin pressed into her hand, while Pocahontas takes the candle from her grasp and blows it out. “And she needs to drink.”

“Got it,” she mumbles, walking past her and entering the teepee.

“Get out.” Regina isn’t even lifting her head[nn1]  to see who entered her teepee.

“I am happy to see you too, Madam Mayor.”

“Oh, it’s you.” Regina slumps further back down into her pillow and sighs. “These people are always coming in with burning joss sticks and murmuring something under their breath in a language I’ve never heard before.”

“Neal’s alive,” she blurts out before she can stop herself and she places the plate and waterskin next to Regina’s pillow.

Dark eyes find hers. “What?”

“The portal brought him here. Pocahontas’ fiancé or whatever found him at the shore a few miles from here,” she continues, a treacherous burning in her eyes. She blinks the tears away, wills her hand to tremble less. “He’s dying, though. So, basically his death just got postponed, not prevented.”

“Emma, stop.”

“He isn’t even awake. He doesn’t know what happened to Henry and that he’s still missing.”

“Emma…”

“I told him I loved him, back then when he was about to disappear into that portal and back then it felt good, because I was sure he would die and I just wanted to… I dunno, let him know that even though a huge part of me will forever resent him for what he has done to me, another part of me can’t hate him for Henry and—I just…”

There is rustling, and a deep breath and then there is a warm hand on her trembling hands and she doesn’t cry, because there is a warm hand and the faint smell of apples and something tight in her chest that she tries to ignore, but she can’t.

Not anymore.

#

Henry returns with the supplies he was asked to bring and approaches the two kneeling figures with caution. He isn’t afraid of them, not really, but his gaze is roaming around, seeing the damage Pan has caused. Four Lost Boys lying lifeless on the ground, a pool of blood around each of them. Dark, black blood.

This can’t be right.

But he isn’t going to inspect this further. “Here,” he says with a knot in his throat. He feels sick again. “I couldn’t find any ripped clothes, though,” he adds and wonders not for the first time why Felix expected there to be any.

Pan’s friend nods, not taking the bowl out of his hand, but looking at him intently. “Stay here, Henry. Clean his wound if you can and then stay here. I’ll check the surrounding area for some clues or signs where the rest of that horde went.”

Henry waits until Felix gets to his feet and almost turns around. “Do you think they are still alive?”

“Who?”

“Tamara and Greg. Owen, I mean.”

Felix makes a grim face. “I hope for the sake of us all that they are dead.”

Pan makes a small noise of disagreement. “I highly doubt that. Otherwise, the Shadow would be back by now.” The smile he attempts to put on his lips is empty and looks more like a sad grimace above anything else. His pale face turns to Henry. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out what’s going on,” he promises him and nods to Felix who rushes silently off, a dagger in his hand. He disappears between the bushes, into the dark jungle.

Henry breathes and breathes and still feels like drowning. “Is this … I mean, did this happen … before?” His free hand gestures at the dead boys lying on the ground, their weapons not far away from them. “Why did you kill them?”

“Nothing is like it seems at the first look. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but I still don’t understand why they had to die,” Henry insists. He wants to know, he needs to know. He can’t just pretend that they aren’t surrounded by dead people. At least four, maybe even more hidden from his view by the dense bushes around them. “They were children!”

“They were long dead before I lifted my sword at them. And yet something kept them alive, dark magic that forces them to follow every order their puppet master tells them to perform, boy,” Pan replies almost bored. “As I said, not everything is like it seems at the first look. Now, come here. Give me the bowl and—yes, thank you,” he says as he takes the cloth out of Henry’s hand.

Henry watches him, not certain what to make of his sudden change in behavior. Then he notices that his eyes aren’t yellow anymore, but green. Normal. “Your eyes,” he says and finally gets what Felix meant earlier with the Shadow that enters and leaves Pan’s body. It explains the yellow eyes and also the different behavior.

Pan takes the cloth with his right hand and carefully cleans the wound on his left arm. “Yes, what is with them? They changed color, didn’t they?” His eyebrows jump up and down and it is almost as distracting as Felix’s scar.

“Yes, but how?” He sits down, too fascinated to worry about dirt or blood.

Pan chuckles dryly. “The Shadow decided to go on a little adventure all by himself,” he drawls, a bitter edge to his voice. “That’s why they aren’t yellow anymore. I like them better green, don’t you think? Fits my clothes better.”

Henry scratches the back of his head, things getting finally a bit clearer. “So, when I arrived to your camp …”

“Then you talked with the Shadow, not with me. I am merely the audience most of the time. A frustrating feeling. I actually wanted to comment on Owen’s horrible lack of hair on his head.”

And just like that he makes Henry laugh, really laugh, for the first time since he entered Neverland.

And then he sobers up and clears his throat. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Pan’s eyes linger on his face, his hand moving slower with the cloth around the cut, before it stills altogether. “Sure, you deserve to know the truth. You’re one of us now, right?”

It’s better than being part of Tamara and Greg’s group.

#

“Do you think they are looking for us?” Emma is sitting on the log, inspecting Regina’s dark shadows around her eyes.

“Your parents loved to chase after one another in the woods, back in the Enchanted Forest, and something tells me that they will do just the same for their precious daughter.”

Emma can’t stop her hurt look at the mentioning of her parents. “That’s not true anymore, is it?”

Regina sighs. “What your mother did in that cave was beyond stupid even for her standards,” she remarks, bitterly. “However, I am certain she didn’t do it on purpose. She never meant to hurt you.”

“Stop making apologies in her name.”

“Then stop looking at me like a kicked puppy. I am the one in pain,” she retorts, immediately opening her mouth to backtrack after realizing how that sounds. It is interesting how their bickering changed into something like fond banter. There is no malicious intent in Regina’s words and the former queen very well knows where the boundaries lie.

Emma thinks about Neal lying in a tent not far away from them. Dying. Alone. “‘s okay,” she mumbles. “We should … do something to get our thoughts away from death and pain.”

Regina gives her a long, irritated look.

“I was thinking that maybe, I dunno, it’d be time for me to learn how to control my magic? We don’t know when yours will come back and even if it does, I am actually not very convinced of the idea to make you use it again right after this weird withdrawal you’re going through right now.”

Regina’s eyes somehow look disappointed. As if she expected Emma to say something else. Did she wait for her to say: ‘Let’s go hunt down my parents?’. That woman.

“Magic is a part of me, Miss Swan,” Regina informs her prickly. “But you do have a point. After all, it’s a bit sad that the Savior’s magical back-up is the Evil Queen out of all people.”

Emma chuckles and tries to cover it up as a small cough. “So, will you teach me?”  
“And what will your parents say once they find out that—okay, no need to glare at me like that, Princess.”

“No, don’t even go there.”

“Knight?”

“Can we drop the titles and just get to the part where we leave this teepee and start having an actual lesson?”

Regina pales at her words. “Emma, I don’t think I should walk. I feel still quite dizzy and—”

“Yeah, probably from the dry herbs and candles and joss sticks lying around. Come on, I’ll help you. The weather is nice here, warm but not this sickly humid warm. Just … warm.”

“Eloquent as always, aren’t we?”

Emma rolls her eyes and gets to her feet stretching her hand to her out. “Let’s go.”

#

They walk to the field with tall grass not far away from the tribe’s camp. A pleasant breeze is playing with their hair and Emma takes a deep breath. “So, what are you going to teach me?”

“No, no, it’s not as easy as that,” Regina tells her, finding a bolder to sit on. She sighs contently and her gaze sweeps to Emma. “Tell me everything you know about magic so far.”

“It always comes with a price?”

“Good, what else?”

“There are spells and curses?”

“Okay, yes,” Regina makes an annoyed face and arches a perfectly shaped brow.

Emma feels like she’s back in school. “Magic is emotion,” she quotes Gold’s words he said to her that day Regina’s mother died in his pawn shop. “And True Love is the only magic powerful enough to transcend realms,” she echoes another of Gold’s words about magic.

Regina nods. “Yes. The most powerful magic of all. Also the reason why your parents become so sappy around each other.”

“You just have to, don’t you?”

“Just like you can’t help yourself with your imbecile puns, Miss Swan, I can’t seem to find the strength to hold myself back from these rather hilarious remarks about these two idiots.”

“You just did it again.”

“I am that good,” comes the smug reply and Emma rolls her eyes again. But there is this warmth in her chest and that small smile on her lips and her mind is wonderfully blank and who is she to complain about that?

She cracks the jolts of her fingers and both hands and looks at her pointedly. “Now what?”

“We start with something simple.”

“Letting a leaf levitate?”

“No,” Regina exhales. “You need to find the magic within you. Before we start talking about reaching out for it and using it, you need to feel it in your body, to connect to it. It’s there, always and to all times, even though you are not consciously using it.”

“Like thoughts in my subconscious?”

“Exactly,” Regina agrees and her eyes glow with approval.

And now she feels like an overly keen student that is hunting after good grades.

Regina points at the ground. “Sit down.”

“Why?”

“You need to relax. And this little clearing here is perfect for that. Have a seat and close your eyes.”

Emma follows that order, albeit her reservations stay. She lowers herself to the ground until she sits cross-legged in front of Regina, just like Chief Powhatan. The Natives’ lifestyle seems to be rubbing off on her. She closes her eyes.

“Focus on your breathing, your heartbeat. Push every distracting thought away. That shouldn’t be the hard part for you, I suppose,” Regina chuckles and goddammit, when will this woman draw the line.

She reopens one eye. “Seriously?”

“I’ll stop. Maybe.”

She closes her one eye again.

And grins.

Well, damn.

#

They walk next to each other down to the core of the camp where Henry went to get the bowl with water. The fireplace is unlit and the place looks for the first time truly abandoned. Nearby are the open cages.

Peter makes a long face. “I don’t like that they had time to escape,” he murmurs darkly and walks over to investigate the lock. His slim, still with dark blood covered fingers turn the object around, his forehead creased in a disturbed frown. “It wasn’t opened by force,” he sighs.

“What does that mean?”

“The Shadow helped them. I just don’t know why.”

“Do you think he remembers Greg or Owen?” Henry is confused by the fact that this man has two different names. Nothing is easy with him, is it?

Peter pushes the cage that is next to him away with far too much force and watches how it crashes against the other cage. But he seems not satisfied with that. His brows furrow and his eyes look at his hands. “Usually the shadow isn’t gone for very long,” he says and contrary to the expression he’s wearing on his face, his voice is low and bitter, not loud and angry.

“That’s good, right?” Henry inquires hopeful. “I mean, you are yourself now.”

“It’s bad!” Now he’s getting loud, his deep voice cracking at the end. Panic, Henry realizes. “It’s bad because that means that whatever that creature plans, it happens without me!” His right eyebrow seems to touch his hairline before jumping back down. He purses his lips. “This is bad, Henry.”

“What do we do?”

“We wait. Felix hasn’t returned and there is still time left before I start to feel like a wet puddle in the dirty streets of London.”

Henry doesn’t know what to make of Peter’s dry humor, but it calms him down at least. Maybe he is too young to fully comprehend that kind of humor. Whatever. “And what are we going to do?”

“Well, I won’t ask you to help me to clean the mess I made up there, so how about you show me what you can do with that crossbow of yours?”

“We’ve just returned from the practice field.” Henry knows that Peter is trying to distract him, but he’s not a little child anymore to fall for tricks like that. Then again: what else are they supposed to do? He’s right, he won’t go near the corpses lying around there. His stomach grumbles. “We go back there?”

“Who needs practice field?” he queries, arching a brow. “Do you think your enemies will run around with a round target nailed to their foreheads?”

Henry swallows and shakes his head. “No,” he answers in a small voice and takes the crossbow off his back. The quiver attached to his belt and left thigh barely moves. Felix helped him to put it on. He takes a bolt out and loads the weapon, then he gets into his position and aims at the next best thing he can find. It’s a lantern hanging low of a tree. He forces himself to breathe calmly in and out until he holds his breath, leans his cheek against the stock of the crossbow and pulls the trigger.

The bolt doesn’t miss his target and it crashes right through the lantern, splinters and shards of glass flying around.

Peter laughs in delight. “You are good. Since when do you practice magic?”

Henry nearly drops his weapon and gives Peter a thunderstruck look. “Magic?”

“Your aim is immaculate. Your hands stopped shaking the moment you decided at what you are going to shoot. You immediately calmed down. Didn’t you feel it?”

“I did, but … I just thought it was because I wanted to … and …” He stares baffled at him. “That is magic?”

“Well, not entirely,” Peter admits. “But it can very well be connected to it.” He arches a brow. “Your magic is not external.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, usually magic is always in your body, no matter if you sleep or bathe or eat—it’s there,” Peter starts to explain, stepping closer to him. “You can’t turn it off, however, sometimes your conscious decides to blend it out and it becomes a part of your subconscious. That’s why usually people who live in the Land Without Magic don’t know that they have this power.”

“But mine is different, right?” He thinks about Emma being the product of True Love and her magic. He doesn’t get his hopes up, he already knows that he isn’t a product of True Love. Not like Emma.

Peter places his hands on his shoulders, nodding. “Yours is more timid, from what I felt. It remains in your body, you can’t use it to shove someone away with magic or to set something on fire … your magic is exclusively and only for you.”

Henry blinks. “But why?”

“When I first entered Neverland, all those centuries ago,”—did he really say centuries?—“and before the Lost Boys were merely a group of mindless slaves of the Shadow, someone told me a story about the Truest Believer.”

“The Truest Believer?” Henry puts the crossbow on the table and sits down next to it.

Peter steps back and crosses his arms, smiling his crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes. It’s not a prophecy per se, more like a comforting thought that sometimes the sheer will of one person, even that of a young boy like you, can make a huge difference in the world.”

“You … think I am the Truest Believer?”

“You could be, yes. The story is about someone who is able to alter the reality with his beliefs. Basically his belief is the root of his magic.”

“Makes sense,” Henry agrees with excitement in his voice and he wonders if magic somehow follows strict rules like they exist in math or physics. He smiles at Peter. “Is the Truest Believer something like a hero?” He always admired Emma and her title. It suits her and he wishes to be more like her, more like Prince Charming. Both have courage, strength and they have no fear.

He wants to be like them and maybe this is his chance.

“Henry,” Peter makes in a serious whisper, “everyone who doesn’t lose his mind on this island is a hero. Stay strong, pal.”

#

A blonde woman is leaving Neal’s teepee when Emma and Regina arrive there. Emma is partly supporting Regina’s weight and that stubborn woman practically forced her to go there and check on Neal.

“I can wait outside,” Regina’s said and now, here they are.

Facing a stranger.

Emma tilts her head, slowing down.

Regina stops dead in her tracks, forcing Emma to stop as well.

The blonde stares at them in shock, before she shakes it off and glares at Regina. “Regina,” she hisses at the brunette and Emma knows that they just happened to bump into one of Regina’s _friends_. A real blast from the past.

“Tinkerbell.”

Of course Tinkerbell hates the Evil Queen. 

“Emma Swan,” she chimes in, ignoring Regina’s jab with her elbow into her ribs. Worth it.

“Not the right moment to imitate Donkey from _Shrek_ ,” Regina whispers to her, not letting Tinkerbell out of sight.

Emma sighs. She doesn’t know why she is surprised that Regina knows that movie. Or why she had to make this joke in the first place. 

“What are you doing in Neverland?”

There is a long pause. Emma can feel the wheels in Regina’s head turning. It is still risky to trust strangers, or acquaintances from the past in that matter. And the former queen is still in a weak state, perhaps not the best moment to meet an old enemy from the past. Or … frenemy? Something about Regina’s behavior seems off.

The former queen looks _guilty_.

Oh, wow. What did she do to that fairy? (Is she a fairy? There are no wings. And aren’t fairies supposed to be small?)

Finally, Regina breaks the silence and stops Tinkerbell from tapping with her foot on the ground. “We’re looking for our son.”

All Emma hears is ‘our son’ and she likes the sound of it a lot. It just seems to be right. The pieces fall into place, and while they both tiptoe together around some pieces they still don’t want to talk about, at least they can both agree that Henry is a part of both of their lives and nothing is going to change that now.

_Our son._

“You have a son with this woman?” This time it’s directed at her and Emma notices the incredulous tone.

She blinks.

Regina’s breath hitches.

Yeah, in hindsight, Regina’s answer kinda came out wrong.

Goddammit.


	9. Chapter 9

Emma looks nervously between the two women. The air is cracking between them. “Okay, wow, before you kill each other by glaring daggers at each other, let me stop you right there.” She tugs at Regina’s arm, ready to go in the other direction. Away from that blonde. “Come on. You should get some sleep.”

“Does she know what you did, Regina?” Tinkerbell’s voice is filled with bitterness and disdain.

Emma turns around, looking straight at her. “I do. Here’s the thing, I don’t have time to explain to you why I am still not trying to get rid of her in a dark cold alley.” She pauses. “You can yell at her tomorrow, but right now I need her to get back into her teepee before she rips my arm off.”

Regina glares at her and yeah, she’s right, she really isn’t _that_ heavy, but the arm that is supporting her weight is a bit numb.

Tinkerbell stares at her in bewilderment. “Who are you?”

Emma sighs, because that question has to come up every damn time, right? “I am Emma Swan,” she says, praying that Regina will keep her mouth shut.

“The Savior,” the woman next to her readily adds, and _for fuck’s sake_.

Now she’s the one glaring at Regina, who simply shrugs her gaze away. “Don’t be shy about it, Miss Swan.”

“It’s not being shy, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

“And what, pray tell, would that be, dear? That you are in fact a swan?”

Emma pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “Not the right moment to crack a joke, your Majesty.”

“Wow, would you two please stop before my eyes and ears start to bleed?” Tinkerbell looks at them somewhat disgusted and Emma doesn’t really get why. Okay, so they have this unhealthy need to hurt each other with words, but this? This was harmless. They can do much worse, Emma knows that all too well.

Regina finally bows her head and turns them around to leave.

And Emma goes with her, casting one last glance at Tinkerbell’s disturbed expression on her face.

They walk in silence, but it doesn’t take long for Emma to ask her about that. “Who is that woman?”

“No one.”

“She’s pretty upset with you for a ‘no one’, don’t you think?”  
“Do me a favor, and don’t be so much like your mother right now. This is none of your business.”

“Hey,” Emma says and stops Regina from walking, forcing her to face her. “I thought we were a team now. And usually that implies that we can trust each other. I won’t judge. But if she’s going to be a threat for our … task, then I need to know.”

Regina worries her lower lip, avoiding Emma’s gaze. Clearly thinking about her words. “I will tell you the story. Just not here. Let’s go.”

She can’t argue with that and so they continue their walk to Regina’s teepee.

#

A young girl that introduces herself as Tiger Lily enters their teepee, shortly after they arrived. Emma gives her an unsteady smile while taking the vessel out of her hands. It’s obviously their version of a teakettle, judging by the smell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, placing the vessel on the log and taking the two wooden cups.

“My sister will bring you something to eat shortly.”

Regina seems completely disconnected to the whole conversation, she sits down on her bed and plays with that ring she is always wearing.

Emma tilts her head slightly. “Pocahontas is your sister?”

“Yes,” the girl nods and leaves the teepee with a polite little smile. Well, they definitely wear similar dresses made out of animal skin.

Emma walks around the log, careful not to touch it or the vessel on it and sits down next to Regina. “Is now a good time to talk?”

Regina remains silent for some more minutes and Emma keeps herself busy by filling the two cups with tea. Then, the former queen starts to tell her story, her voice low and timid. She tells a story about desperation and being trapped (Emma doesn’t want think too much about the fact that Regina was once married to Snow’s father, to her _grandfather_ and how unhappy that man obviously had made her). A story about a fairy and sadness and a new friendship and fairy dust. A lead to her supposed soulmate, a man with a lion tattoo. A man she never got to know because she ran and then pushed Tinkerbell away. Sweet, good Tinkerbell, who went against direct orders of the Blue Fairy and then lost everything. Because of Regina.

Emma is scared of the amount of self-hatred Regina’s dark eyes display between unshed tears.

#

Peter is very pale and reticent. His gaze is unfocused and he mostly rests on his cot near the fireplace that he ignited before.

Henry is worried. His new friend seems to be in bad shape and Felix hasn’t returned yet. “Are you okay?” They are eating mangos and from time to time, Henry stares into the warming flames, licking at the firewood.

Peter coughs. “It’s nothin’, Henry. Just lost my mojo.”

“Ehm, okay?”

“The Shadow makes me feel strong and it makes my body believe that without it, it’s not able to function properly. It’s a polished lie. One, to ensure my obedience to him.” He sounds so resigned. As if he is talking about the humid weather here.

Henry bows his head, inspecting the dirt under his too long fingernails. “I am sorry,” he tells him, because he’s just 11 years old and he doesn’t really know how to cope with Peter’s old pain.

Peter just coughs, though it does sound a little like a humorless chuckle.

Luckily Felix returns soon after that, pushing his hood back and giving Peter a little head shake. “They are gone and I have no idea where,” he confesses, sitting down between Peter and Henry. “Forgive me.”

“Well. Nothing can be done about that, I suppose,” Peter sighs and rubs his closed eyes. “I just hope they both get eaten by cannibals, even though the Shadow seems to be using one of those two imbeciles.”

Henry shudders at the word “cannibals”, because that fact still unsettles him to no end. “Is that why the Shadow left you?”

“Yes,” Peter mumbles, his eyes covered by his hand. There is a fresh cut glistening in the warm glow of the fire. Probably happened during his fight with … the Lost Boys. He thinks of them now as some sort of zombies and he wonders if this is really the truth or if Peter told him that lie to make him and himself feel better about that. He isn’t sure. “Owen impressed the Shadow with his hatred. That boy hated a woman named Regina with all his heart, impressive for his young age back then.”

Henry swallows.

Oh-oh.

“The Shadow let him go, but he bound him to this island. A contract signed by that little, hateful boy with his own blood, can you believe that?”

Felix adds another wood billet into the flames.

“What did that … woman do to him?” He knows, of course. Something really bad, something to do with schemes and death and betrayal. He feels the same conflicting feelings of old flaring up again. He doesn’t hate her, but the sting of disappointment doesn’t go away overnight. She lied to him. Made him feel crazy for one whole year. Made his life miserable. Not to mention the curse and all the happy endings she tried to take away.

Felix gives him a curious look, but says nothing.

Peter lifts his hand and stares at the leaf canopy above their heads, barely visible in the darkness of the approaching night. “She killed his father for no reason.”

Henry forces himself to keep breathing.

“People die all the time. It’s nothing to lose your mind about. It’s certainly not enough to make a deal like this with the goddamn Shadow,” he continues, making breathing a lot easier. “Bad stuff happens, bad people exist. But the choice is still ours how to handle them, how to cope with pain.”

There are some apes hollering in the far distance (at least, he hopes that these are apes and not _men flesh eating humans_ ). “They are still evil, though. That woman. She has to be evil, right?” Henry doesn’t want to hear the answer, but then again he longs for something to go by. In the last few months he has been standing between his grandparents’ insistence that Regina was irredeemable and Emma’s confidence that she just needed a guiding hand. And then the Archie incident happened and everything blew up in their faces. It makes him sad to think about his own play in this whole thing. He planned to _hurt_ his mom.

Was it right? Was he right to do so?

Peter turns his head towards him, his green eyes glowing with confidence. “Am I evil, Henry?”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s a simple question. Do you consider me to be an evil person, hm? I killed a lot of people today. True, they were already empty inside, controlled by a demon who still can’t get enough of magic and power, even though life should’ve taught him better by now. Am I suddenly evil? And what about the sins the Shadow committed while being a part of me? Do you deem them to be enough to make me a villain in your eyes?”

Henry doesn’t know how to answer this. He knows that Peter’s actions aren’t good, but then again—he saved them today, right? He killed the Lost Boys to protect him and Felix. His actions were bad, but they were born out of good intentions. Henry winces. This isn’t as easy as he always liked to believe. “I dunno,” he finally mumbles, playing with a branch let lying in front of him. “I guess not?”

Peter flashes him a smile. “It’s not easy to answer that, right? The world, neither this realm nor any other, is simply black and white—except the Land Without Color, maybe. What I am trying to say is this: things are a lot more complicated the longer you think about them and once you do, you will find that the world is actually just painted in different shades of grey.”

Henry thinks about Emma and how he always thought about her to be the goodness in person, just like her parents. According to Peter’s logic, even these people did some evil things in their life. “This doesn’t make bad actions okay, though,” he contradicts and to his surprise, Peter nods.

“I never asked you to find apologies for bad actions. I just asked you if every bad decision in one’s life makes that person immediately evil. And when does this ‘Evil’ begin and end? Where is the line, Henry? Do you know where the line is, can you pinpoint the exact moment a person becomes irredeemable?”

He doesn’t. He shakes his head. He feels like he’s about to have a headache. Peter’s deep voice is throwing questions at him that whirl up every belief he considered to be the one truth to rely on. Now he starts to question them himself and it confuses him. “Why do you ask me these things?” he wonders.

Felix smiles, obviously he went through a similar conversation like this before.

“The moment you stop dividing the world in Good and Evil, black and white, that’s the moment when you start to grow up. And what Truest Believer would you be, if you followed that concept, hm?”

At that, Felix jerks his head up and stares at Peter and then at Henry. “He is …?”

“I just found out today.”

“Maybe that’s why—”

“Yes, maybe,” Peter mumbles darkly and Henry has no clue what they are talking about. He feels like he’s among grown-ups again.

He hates the feeling of being left out.

#

The next morning starts early and Emma isn’t even complaining. She slept on the ground of the teepee that is covered with skins of deers and wolves. She used her black turtle neck as a pillow and found a blanket in Regina’s duffel bag.

The former queen has slept peacefully and Emma is grateful for that. It means that Regina’s withdrawal symptoms are slowly fading. Maybe tomorrow their search can continue.

They don’t talk during their breakfast outside at one of the little fireplaces (where little children hide behind teepees nearby, just to look around the corner and stare at Emma with wide eyes, before running off with giggles and laughter). Regina seems to be distracted by her thoughts, but as long as she’s eating her meal, Emma is not going to poke her with questions. The story last night gave her enough stuff to think about.

For once, she didn’t know that finding your True Love or soulmate or whatever could be so easy. Her parents made it sound like an extraordinary thing, an adventure, a love that has to be hard fought for. Yet, Regina has told her a different story.

She does feel a little sorry for Tink and her terrible fate. Living in exile is never nice, and being trapped on Neverland without a way out? That sucks big time.

And then she thinks about the unresolved things between Regina and Tinkerbell. “You should talk with her,” she suddenly says, not able to hold herself back.

Regina lifts her head and gives her a puzzled look. “With Tinkerbell? That is a futile approach to settle things between us. I hurt her, Emma. There is no word invented to make everything better, to change what I did to her. I just have to live with it. I did for the past decades and it worked just fine.” It sounds like cheap subterfuge and they both know it. For once, Regina is the one who wants to run and not face things that lie back a few decades.

“You cast a curse and you killed a lot of people and you were lonely, but I am happy that it ‘worked just fine’ for you,” Emma says without any malice in her voice, because there is no need for it.

Regina is back to that state of self-hatred. She puts her plate down and locks her gaze with the flames in front of her. A pot is hanging above the fireplace and Emma suspects that some delicious soup is being cooked in there. She can’t check though, a lid is covering it. “And why would she talk to me? You were there, yesterday. Did she look like someone who wants to talk and work through all the things that went wrong?”

Emma doesn’t know what makes her happier: the fact that Regina is trusting her and taking her advice seriously, or that she values her opinion. Both. Both make her ridiculously happy.

“Just … try it. You have nothing to lose here. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, then fine, at least you gave it a shot and it didn’t work. But maybe it will and wouldn’t it be better to have an ex-fairy as our ally than our enemy?”

Regina thinks a few minutes about it, enough time for Emma to finish her oatmeal. “Very well,” the brunette finally relents. “I’ll talk to her. And what will you do during that time? Visit Neal?”

“He’s still unconscious, I asked Pocahontas earlier about … him.” Emma shrugs. “Practice with my sword a bit? Doing some meditation?”

Regina smiles and it doesn’t reach her eyes, but the look in them isn’t unfriendly, either. “Good. And remember: keep your eyes closed and then it will work just fine,” she reminds her and Emma blushes at that a bit, because Regina doesn’t know why she wasn’t able to keep her eyes closed and focus on her breathing task.

Regina looked impossibly beautiful in the golden sunlight.

#

On her way to the field where she went with Regina the day prior, Emma thinks about her parents and partly worries about them. Guilt and regret about her spontaneous decision to leave them behind is gnawing at her heart.

She reaches the clearing that is surrounded by tall grass and places her sword on the bolder Regina occupied yesterday, when she sees him. Pocahontas’ fiancé. What is his name again? Kocoum.

He nods politely at her, his bare chest covered with two red handprints. He’s one of the three who captured them and brought them to the camp, Emma realizes.

“Hey,” she waves and comes closer. She isn’t sure if he even speaks English. “I hope it’s okay that I am here?”

Kocoum holds two wooden sticks in his hand. “Followed you,” he replies in his deep voice that is heavy with the typical accent she’s come to get used to, being around Pocahontas and Tiger Lily. “Practicing together?” he offers and holds one stick out to her.

She hesitates. “That is very nice, but I am not really good at that whole ‘fighting with a weapon that is not a gun or my fist’ thing.”

He looks confused at her and Emma knows that she used too many words way too fast. He probably doesn’t even know all the words she used. How the hell is he supposed to know the word “gun” if they use spears and bow and arrows as weapons? “Kocoum a good teacher. Good teacher,” he repeats and taps at his chest with his other hand.

Emma feels excitement in her veins. She got the chance to travel like a pirate, and now a member of a real Indian tribe is going to teach her how to fight. She smiles at him. “Okay, let’s do this.” She takes the stick in her hand and watches Kocoum.

After two hours, Emma feels like she does after a hard and intense workout or long run. All muscles in her arms, her back and stomach ache and burn, but in the right way. Kocoum taught her a lot about fluid movements, balance and how to make the best of every situation. He didn’t talk much, but that’s what made the lesson so comfortable. Emma was able to focus exclusively on what Kocoum was doing.

He now collects his two sticks and bows in front of her. “Savior fights well,” he says with respect in his voice and then he walks in the direction of the camp.

Emma stays behind, trying to relax. After a while her breathing returns to normal and she sits down on the ground, cross-legged and with the purpose to meditate a bit, before returning to the camp.

It still takes a long, long time to find the magic within her and to get a hold over it. But once she does, she feels really good. Secure. As if nothing could ever harm her. All her worries, anxieties and her guilt—they seem to have vanished.

It’s the beautiful lie magic feeds you with, Regina had said. She, out of all people, has to know. Emma doesn’t want to know how desperate Regina had to be to willingly accept that minor flaw with learning and practising magic. But then again, she’s assuming that Regina had a choice. Maybe she didn’t. If Regina’s story is true, then the young, absolutely miserable woman just wanted to get a chance at happiness and she knows that Rumpelstiltskin was her mentor. That was bound to backfire at some point.

And Rumpelstiltskin never does something without a certain goal in his mind. Teaching Regina magic made the curse possible. And she now knows that the curse was supposed to reunite father and son after centuries of being apart.

Worked out really well for them. Rumpelstiltskin is mourning for a son, who is still alive but barely so. Neal. She opens her eyes, blinks against the midday sun and sighs. She should pay him a visit, at least to check if his state changed in her absence.

She gets to her feet, feeling how the confidence and warmth of her magic is leaving her. She picks the sword up from the bolder and carries it in her hand back to the teepee she’s sharing with Regina. It’s empty. She steps out of it and looks around after a dark haired woman with a purple blazer and a burgundy blouse that is scandalously low buttoned.

Well, it is hot here. But still.

She meets Tiger Lily on her way to Neal’s tent. “Hey, do you know where Regina is?”

“At the river, with Tinkerbell,” the girl answers with a smile and her dark eyes are filled with wonder, while she stares at her blonde hair. Emma supposes that—besides Tinkerbell—these people don’t get to meet many people with this hair color.

She doesn’t mind. “How long are they gone?”

“I don’t know. But I was collecting berries with my sister and we heard them shouting at each other.”

Oh, fuck.

She’s going to pay the price for pushing Regina to go to talk to Tinkerbell. She sighs deeply. “Thanks,” she mutters and continues to shuffle towards the teepee.

Neal is awake. He’s still lying on his back, but his eyes are open and he seems to be humming “Ain’t No Grave” by Johnny Cash to himself. How fitting. She remembers why she’d fallen for this man all these years ago and tears are burning in her eyes for the lost future they could’ve had. They could’ve raised Henry together, perhaps. Be a family, find Tallahassee.

But Neal isn’t that kind of person, so of course he took the cowardly way out, just because August, fucking _Pinocchio,_ told him to do so.

She clears her throat. “Hey,” she goes, and Neal’s gaze finds hers.

“Emma?”

“Yeah, funny thing to meet here out of all places,” she chuckles nervously.

Neal tries to sit up and groans with clenched teeth.

“Don’t,” she advises him, coming closer. She has to stand, because there is no log to sit on.

Neal breathes hard and she sees his sickly grayish face, the beads of sweat on his forehead and temples and how his hands grip at the bedclothes. “What are you … doing in … Neverland?”

She worries her lower lip. Perfect. What should she tell him? She sighs. And then she starts to briefly summarize what has happened to Henry and why they are here.

“Fuck,” Neal curses and winces. “I am so sorry, Ems. This—I never wanted any of that … to happen,” he bites out, his breathing laboured.

You can’t be really mad at a dying man, can you? Emma looks at her hands, avoiding Neal’s feverish gaze. His eyes are red and unfocused, he’s on the brink of unconsciousness again. “When did you wake up?” she changes the topic, before it gets too uncomfortable to be standing in the middle of that teepee.

“A few minutes ago. They fed me some oatmeal, gave ... me something to drink and changed the bandages. They are trying … to heal me with an unguent … which is, you know, pointless. They can’t get the bullet out. Too deep. No experience … with surgeries.”

Emma swallows her tears back. “I wish you wouldn’t have to suffer like this,” she says with all honesty she can muster. It’s cruel to be dying as slowly as this.

Neal nods. “I know. But don’t you think that for once, the payback bitch is doing her job right?” He laughs shortly, but genuinely, before it alters into a coughing fit

She just smiles helplessly back, feeling extremely uneasy to be here and witness his condition. “I should let you rest,” she finally mumbles, crouching down to squeeze his hand. “I am sorry, too, you know? We will find Tamara and—”

“No, please,” Neal interrupts her softly, his eyes closed. He swallows a few times, takes a deep breath. “She’s fallen for the lies of that sneaky ... bastard. Make her pay for that and make her pay for kidnapping Henry. But don’t ... try to avenge my death. I … know what I deserve, I know what I have … done to you. It’s time to pay for that, Ems.”

She chokes back a sob. “I might not love you the way you … perhaps want me to, Neal Cassidy,” she begins with a soft voice. “But a part of me will love you for Henry and for the brief time you made me feel important to someone, and loved.” She kisses his cheek and it’s wet with salty tears, but she doesn’t know if these are hers or his.

She stands up.

“You always deserved better … than the coward of the Dark One’s son,” Neal whispers and drifts back into his troubled sleep.

Emma casts a last glance at him, then she leaves his teepee.

#

Henry wakes up to the tunes of a pan flute. He lifts his head from the pillow in the hammock he slept in and blinks sleepily, finding Pan sitting on his cot and playing the instrument with closed eyes. He is still very pale and the shadows under his eyes are telling the story of a sleepless night.

Felix isn’t there.

“Good morning, Henry,” Peter greets him and lays the flute down. “I hope you slept well?”

“Yeah,” Henry yawns, getting to his feet and climbing into his boots. “Where is Felix?”

“Trying to get us some fish from the river. He’ll be back.”

Henry nods and stretches, yawning again. “And what are we going to do today?”

“Do you know how to play chess, Henry?”

Henry smiles. “Yes.”

Peter winces slightly as he gets to his feet as well. He limps to the table and starts looking for something in the pile of different things. Henry believes he spots a broken radio, a skipping rope, some books, bricks, teddybears and so on. Peter’s movements become more and more frantic, his breathing is laboured and before Henry can offer him his help, Peter overthrows the table with a curse on his lips, his hands balled into fists.

“Uhm …” Henry doesn’t know what to say.

Peter’s eyes are dark with anger while he gazes at the mess he just made. His whole body is shaking, but Henry has a hard time telling if it is because of his exhaustion or fury. “I hate this island, it takes everything from you, everything you love!”

His shouting is loud enough to startle some birds. They fly away and Henry wants to go with them, just to get away from Peter’s stare. There is a darkness, a sadness in his eyes that looks so similar to his mom’s and he knows that this is wrong. It shouldn’t be in the eyes of a boy like Peter. He’s still too young for this, no matter how many decades he has spent on this island.

“Peter, I—”

“I need a walk. Stay here and … just don’t touch anything and wait for Felix. Practise with your crossbow.” Peter limps away, his shoulders bend forward and his left hand is holding his right side, a clear sign that he has a stitch.

Henry waits until Peter disappears from his vision, then he climbs back into his hammock and hides under the blanket.

He wants to go home.

#

Regina returns from her talk two hours later. Her posture is tense and she seems to be in pain, but she hides it with a murderous glance directed at Emma as soon as she spots her—her and the five little girls around Emma, who are braiding her hair, weaving feathers into it. They begged her to do so, Pocahontas translated their begs and Emma agreed. And now she’s sitting on a tree trunk and watches Regina coming closer while slim fingers are working with purpose on her hairstyle.

“What are you doing?”

“They are in love with my hair.” She shrugs, earning a disapproving light slap on her shoulders. “These little devils wouldn’t leave me alone, so I had to sit down and let them braid my hair. According to Pocahontas, it’s a _great honor_ and a sign that a tribe is trusting you. Whatever. Ouch, be careful there!”

She hears a giggle.

Regina gives her hair a critical look. “Doesn’t look bad,” she admits and sits down in front of her, the unlit fireplace between them. The pot is still there.

“And how was the talk between you and Tinkerbell?”

“Well, I had to rip my heart out to prove a point, but I think that it was a success nonetheless, considering that no one died.”

Emma almost chokes on her own saliva. “You had to rip out your own—!”

“Just like you, she wouldn’t believe that I love Henry.”

“I don’t—”

“Maybe you don’t question it _now_ , but you did when we first met,” Regina reminds her with a dry, cutting voice. “Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not,” Emma says and she’s ashamed that it took her ages to understand Regina’s endless love for Henry. Now that she knows, it’s obvious in her eyes, features and voice every time she does as much as saying his name. “But you did talk?”

Regina nods, pushing at her hair. It looks flawless as ever, _how is she even doing that without magic_. “We did. It’s—not everything is terrible anymore. You were right.” And it sounds so surprised that Emma has to laugh at that.

A girl touches her shoulder and says something Emma doesn’t understand and another girl claps in her hands.

Regina smiles. “They are finished. Here,” she says, reaching into her pocket of her blazer and retrieves a pocket mirror. “Have a look.”

Emma takes it and touches Regina’s hand for a second, immediately feeling too much and too less in the same heartbeat. Regina clears her throat.

That wasn’t awkward at all, no.

She looks in the mirror and has to smile. Two thin braids on each side of her head are meeting at the back in a knot that is decorated with feathers. She has to check with her hands, since she’s one mirror short to check the back of her head. But the rest of her hair is falling on her back and shoulders. It is really a good job and she feels a strange sense of comfort. She looks at the girls who are all expectantly waiting for her reaction. “It is very beautiful. Thank you,” she says with a little bow of her head, smiling brightly. They briefly dance around her, before running off with cheerful laughter.

Regina watches them leave. “Their lives are simpler than ours, and yet they seem happier than we do. How is that possible?”

“They are not affected by the Shadow, but they are still threatened by his presence, so I guess, they’re all just trying to enjoy most things as best as they can,” she shrugs and gives her the mirror back. This time, Regina is careful not to touch her.

She shouldn’t be disappointed about this.

“You might have a point.”

“Why, why do you have to sound so surprised?”

“You are many things, Emma Swan, but a wordsmith with very intelligent and deeply philosophical thoughts isn’t one of them,” Regina points out, walking next to her. “How did the meditation go?”

She tells her about Kocoum and her new skills, animatedly gesturing with her hands and completely missing Regina’s small, invisible smile on her red lips.

The walk around the corner, right when Emma is about to tell about her meditation, when her eye catches something silver flashing in the sunlight. A hook.

“Swan!”

“Oh god, Emma!”

And before she can even say something, two pairs of strong arms are closing around her and there is Snow’s broken whisper in her ear that tells her how sorry she is, and David’s warm strong hand on the back of her head.

“We found you,” David tells her and she can hear the smile in his voice. She knows what is going to follow.

A sigh.

And then—

“Where is a sleeping curse when you need one?” Regina mutters to herself, causing Hook to chuckle throatily.

Her parents let go of her, giving Regina a disapproving look. “Well, some people simply take their duffel bag and promise to come back with firewood and never do.”

“Oops.”

“You could’ve at least left a note.”

“My apologies. Next time, I will ask my secretary to send you a letter with a carrier pigeon, since you seem to be so fond of birds.”

Snow just glares at her.

For someone who is still weak and tired and clearly exhausted from the withdrawal symptoms, Regina certainly knows how to be a sassy little bitch. Emma just wishes she could find it in her to hate the woman for that. Fuck everything, she never asked for things to become this complicated.

David frowns. “Next time?”

Emma wants to face palm herself, because her father just gave Regina new ammo in the section: “How to insult a Charming”. And he doesn’t even realize it, although Regina isn’t even _trying_ to hide her victorious smile and the amused look in her eyes when she glances in Emma’s direction. Her parents and the pirate are too busy with looking around and giving the tribe residents polite smiles. Or in Hook’s case, a mocking bow with the head.

“Don’t you dare,” Emma whispers to Regina, standing next to her.

Regina gives her a smug, feline smile. “What do you mean, dear? Did I say something?”

“You—!”

“This seems to be my lucky week,” a voice interrupts their weird reunion and they all turn around to face the woman belonging to that bitter voice.

Emma suddenly remembers that Regina isn’t the only one in this group who betrayed Tinkerbell’s trust and friendship.

Hook pales in the bright sunlight and he looks, for the first time since they met, truly scared. “Tink,” he mouths disbelievingly.

Fun times ahead.


	10. Chapter 10

Henry does miss the red target a few times. It’s because he’s with his thoughts somewhere else and magic or not, if he isn’t focusing on the task ahead the bolt will get stuck in dirt somewhere far behind the tree where the round target is nailed to.

He is still thinking about Peter’s words and the possible meaning behind it. Of course he must have lost someone. His parents, most likely. Siblings. Friends? The possibilities are endless and if it were simple he would climb up the ladder to Peter’s treehouse and ask him about it. But it’s complicated and it clearly hurts Peter.

Whatever the Shadow has done to him, it has left devastation and pain behind. Henry feels sorry for Peter, even though he is too young to get all the layers of agony in Peter’s voice.

He stares at the ground, his crossbow pointing down. He thinks about Peter’s words about Good and Evil and how his beliefs no longer apply to the world. To no world, actually. Henry is bitter about that fact, his world view shattered to pieces within seconds and he is still not sure if he can believe Peter’s words. But he wants to. Peter’s words allow him to stop feeling bad about still loving his mom.

They allow him to forgive her, to truly miss her without that nagging voice in the back of his mind that tells him he should stop and hope that only Emma would come for his rescue. He needs them both. Both.

He loads his crossbow, aims and—hits the target in the red center.

He smiles.

“Your shoulders are too tense,” Felix’s voice informs him and he turns around to see how Felix uses a rope to jump off the tree he was currently standing on. How he did get there in the first place remains a mystery to Henry. “But otherwise you’re getting better with each try. Something happened while I was gone?” His blue eyes roam over the mess Peter has left behind.

Henry just shrugs. “I … don’t know. He just—I don’t think he’s feeling well.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s—I need to talk to him anyway. Here, some fruits.” He gives him a burlap bag filled with apples, mangos, bananas and one pineapple.

He furrows his brows. “Weren’t you … fishing?” Henry can’t shake off the feeling that something is off, more than just Peter’s condition or the fact that the Lost Boys aren’t funny and trustworthy boys but zombies, and that a shadow is powerful enough to scare and control an entire island.

Felix blinks and clears his throat. “Had no luck, sorry. I’ll try another spot later,” he smiles his crooked smile that is stretching his scar and he walks to Peter’s ladder that is leading to his tree house.

Henry doesn’t comment on the missing fishing rod.

#

Emma is sitting between her parents, eating the soup that tastes heavily of mushrooms and fish, but it’s warm and something to eat so she won’t complain about this.

Regina avoids her gaze again and is lost to her thoughts and that is something Emma has come to be wary of, because this woman has a talent to make herself feel like shit just by thinking about certain things. Her past. Henry’s abduction. Her part in all this.

Somewhere in the distance a pirate is cursing a fairy to burn in hell.

“For someone who felt sorry for leaving her here, he surely does not sound like that,” Emma murmurs and Regina lifts her gaze as if she was waiting for her to break the silence. They are mostly to themselves, just from time to time someone passes their fireplace and adds some wood to it or gives them a friendly smile and says something that no one understands.

Snow watches them, her wooden spoon freezing mid-air.

“He tends to believe that his pretty face is enough to get him off the hook,” Regina tells her, her lips curling upwards.

Emma chuckles softly into her soup, ignoring the confused look her parents exchange behind her back. “Good one,” she praises, shaking slightly her head. What a pity that Hook wasn’t here to witness this fine pun on his person.

Hook and Tinkerbell went away to “get some long overdue talking done,” as Hook had put it. The fairy _glared_ at him, her fury even more intense than with Regina. Which tells a lot about Hook’s betrayal and Tink’s state of mind.

It sucks to be constantly betrayed, Emma knows that better than anyone. Then again … her gaze falls back on Regina’s now serious face, stirring her soup around.

Snow moves next to her, putting her now empty dish away. “So,” she starts, looking at Emma. There is still a tense undertone and Emma feels uncomfortable with being surrounded by her parents as if nothing has happened. But they all know that this is far from the truth. “What did you do here? And why are you here in the first place?”

“I didn’t feel well,” Emma lies, not bothering to meet Regina’s panicked gaze. She hears the small, remorseful sigh but she doesn’t care about that either. Her parents wouldn’t stop talking to her, trying to take over the rescue mission and claiming that it should’ve always been their rescue mission to begin with, not one where Regina is allowed to make any decisions. But she witnessed how they plan things: they are both on different ends but like to pretend to support the other.

So she lies.

Because it’s easy.

And because a selfish, defiant part of her doesn’t want her parents to know everything. It feels like they don’t deserve that.

Snow makes a worried face. “Oh. I mean—the stress and Henry’s absence …” She bites her tongue and stops, once she realizes that maybe this is also about her confession in the Echo Cave.

Emma forms a thin line with her lips. “Yeah, maybe,” she says, her tone suggesting that she doesn’t agree with her at all. She should try to simply forgive Snow (and by extension also David), but it feels like drowning and choking and it’s _too much_. She clears her throat. “Neal’s alive. Well, technically,” she corrects herself.

David lifts his brows.

Snow gasps.

Emma shrugs. “It doesn’t change a thing. He’s dying. And a part of me wishes he wouldn’t be still alive, because now I have to deal with his death … again.”

“But maybe he will …” Snow starts, always the voice of optimism.

“Pocahontas told me that his wound is infected. It’s slowly killing him. There is no hope left for him,” Emma whispers and puts her plate down, getting to her feet. She looks up at the sky and takes a deep breath. “I am glad you are here, but I am still mad at you,” she tells them, because she feels like giving them an explanation to her behavior.

David nods, while Snow directs  her gaze to the smoldering logs in the fireplace. “We understand,” he mumbles and gives her a tight smile.

She bows her head in acceptance and leaves them. She doesn’t need to turn around to know who is following her. It’s remarkable, how little it bothers her that she’s able to guess Regina’s steps. Soon, Regina is keeping up with her pace, even though it seems to cost her.

“Do you … want to talk?”

Emma knows that something between them shifted an awful long while ago, but she just chose not to dwell on it. Until now. And it has to do with everything that has happened recently, even with things Regina doesn’t want to talk about for whatever reason. But it says a lot about a woman as guarded as Regina when she starts to reach out to her, offering her to help Emma.

The former queen has to know that Emma’s frustration returned the moment she spotted her parents.

“No, no talking. But you could teach me a new trick or two?”

Regina smiles, because they work so alike at times. Running from personal trouble is something they both excel at. They just simply pretend not see it, even though it’s staring right back at them. “To the fields?”

“Yes.”

#

Henry feels that someone’s watching him. His breathing hastens and his fingers start to tremble. He loads the crossbow, gets a firm hold on it and straightens his back. He walks around with the lifted weapon, ready to shoot.

Felix is still at Peter’s treehouse and the breeze carries their whispered yet agitated dispute down to him. He imagines hearing his name, but then the rustling distracts him again. He can barely breathe and his heart is drumming in his chest like mad. “Felix?”

There are steps.

A deep throaty laugh.

Henry is sure to die from sheer dread. He swallows and gulps and tries to get more oxygen into his lungs, slowly retreating with a shaking crossbow in his unsteady hands. “Felix!” His voice is high pitched and then he runs.

He doesn’t look back, but he can hear the growls, the screaming behind him. It sounds straight from a horror movie and this is how he feels right now: he is trapped in the spooky house with the lights off and the doors closed.

He grips the crossbow with his left hand and presses it tightly against his chest, while he reaches for the ladder and tries to climb it with the speed of light. _Ohgodno_.

“Henry, what is—oh shit!” Felix head disappears again, the roaring getting louder. Henry has trouble to climb the corded ladder, and he almost drops his crossbow, when he feels a hand on his feet. “FELIX, DO SOMETHING,” he screeches and he doesn’t care how pathetic that sounds.

The grip hurts and there is a lot of tugging and when he looks down, his heart almost stops.

A Lost Boy.

No, a whole group of Lost Boys.

With red eyes.

Showing their teeth, their lips are dripping with blood and their hands are claws, ready to rip Henry apart should he _let go of that ladder_. He almost chokes on the amount of air he tries to inhale. Panic is making his movements slow and sloppy, his sweaty fingers have a hard time to keep the firm grip around his loaded crossbow. That weapon is entirely useless as long as he’s dangling from that ladder.

He looks at that pale beast that was a human, once. So that’s what a zombie looks like, Henry manages to think before he wriggles his leg out of his boot and continues to climb. The boy snaps with his set of teeth after Henry’s leg, but it’s just the shoe he eventually bites. Oh god. Oh god. The ladder is moving and his back aches and he wants to crawl under a rock, but he can’t, he can’t and he’s wondering if Felix and Peter have run but then he’s finally up and he sees Felix there.

Felix, standing on the slim front porch and shooting one arrow after another at the roaring horde of monsters. Henry presses himself against the wall, watching Felix and looking down at his own weapon.

The whole tree seems to shake, the choking noises getting louder and angrier with each passing second.

Henry knows that he probably should help Felix.

His quiver is running low on arrows, only five left. And he’s shooting them like bullets, precise and skilfull. His entire body is shaking, his mind yelling at him not to lift the crossbow and aim at one of those boys down at the tree bole.

It’s a tough call.

But then the circumstances force him to do what no 11 year old boy should ever be thinking about doing: two Lost Boys manage to scramble the tree up, one of them lifting himself up on the railing where Felix is standing. The blond make a surprised sound and curses under his breath, drawing his dagger. The other boy’s head appears where the ladder is and it’s more a reflex than anything else.

Henry lifts.

And pulls the trigger.

The bolt hits the invisible red mark between the eyes of that boy and it happens too fast and he can’t stop the fired bolt and—

The Lost Boy falls.

And with him Henry’s innocence.

The blood is rushing too fast through his exhausted body. His vision is blurry and his hearing acts weird, as if his ears were stuffed with cotton wool. Felix’s pained hiss sounds miles away.

He feels the hard wooden wall of Peter’s treehouse behind his back.

He’s lost a boot.

And he killed someone.

Finally the world turns again, time moves normally again and he turns around when Felix is about to throw the lifeless body of his attacker down. He enters Peter’s treehouse, still hearing the thud of the body when it reaches the hard ground. The noises die down, until nothing is left but Felix and Henry’s ragged breathing.

Peter is on his knees, holding his head and rocking himself back and forth, whispering nonsense to himself.

“Are you hurt, Henry?”

He can’t talk. Not now. Not ever. He wants to wake up from this nightmare. Please, let him wake up. He doesn’t deserve this kind of nightmare.

“Henry? Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?” He knows that voice. Felix. He is a friend. Even if he killed them. He killed them, too, just like Henry did. They are killers. Destroyed and corrupted by this island.

It’s the island. The island, he repeats in his head like a mantra. It doesn’t help a bit.

“No, but … there was—I lost a shoe,” he says, pointing at his left bare foot. He can’t look at Felix. He can’t face anyone, but the small figure of Peter.

He hears a dry chuckle and an intake of breath filled with agony. “I’ll get you a new pair. Wait here. Everything is okay. You are okay. Nothing happened. You are okay.” His heavy steps leave him and Peter alone again.

He can’t move. He’s made of iron. Everything is cold and not real. This is a dream. He is still in Storybrooke and his mom is about to wake him up any minute now, scolding him for having so many clocks in his room but never getting up on time. The air will smell of her coffee and his pancakes and there will be jam waiting on the counter for him and a glass of orange juice. He will wake up and then this nightmare will be over.

“I am so sorry, Henry,” Peter whispers, as if he knows. He does. His green eyes are dark and look knowingly at him, sadness and sorrow tugging at his lips. He looks like he has seen death.

Henry doesn’t notice that he lets the crossbow fall down, he merely acknowledges the loud thump and the loss of weight in his left hand. He flexes his tired fingers and feels warm wetness on his cheeks.

He’s crying and Peter is still in pain and he’s still missing a shoe.

“This—it is not a dream, is it?” he stammers with a broken whisper and Peter shakes his head, apologizing over and over again for something he can’t be held responsible for.

It’s the Shadow’s fault.

#

Regina is sitting on that bolder again, giving Emma time to reach for her magic. Even with her eyes closed, Emma can still feel the brunette’s eyes on her, watching her doing the breathing techniques Regina had demonstrated one day prior. When she can feel the strange yet comforting warm feeling spreading through her tired body, she opens her eyes.

“Are you ready?”

“It works faster each time.” Emma’s lips slightly quirk up.

Regina nods in approval. “That’s good. The last thing I need is an imbecile student.”

“So glad I fulfill your expectations, your Majesty.”

Regina glares at her. “Don’t call me that. I am no longer queen for I have not only lost my power, but also my magic.”

“Still not returning?” Emma leans back and steadies herself with her arms. She is sitting crossed-legged in front of Regina, again. It’s becoming _a thing_.

Her tutor of magic just shrugs with her shoulders, pushing at her hair and avoiding Emma’s gaze. “I can feel it, I just can’t … grasp it,” Regina tries to describe her troubles and Emma understands. She understands the concept of magic and how it works. It’s a part of the person and not being able to reach out for it is—well, Regina is a great example for that. She’s not really herself, or not completely. It’s like there is something missing.

Emma stares at the sky. The sunset is almost finished. “I am sorry. If we reached the cannery faster, if my parents believed my judgment more than their own memories—”

“It is pointless to ponder over the endless list of what ifs, Emma. Let’s focus on your lesson, hm?”

“Fine.”

“If we had more time and less desperate reasons for your lessons, I wouldn’t start with this. You need to learn, how to transform an image, a demand in your head into an actual event.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to be able to think about something and then the magic is doing exactly what you want it to do. You need to control your magic. Don’t be afraid of its power. And if you need more magic, stronger magic, then use your anger to fuel it and—”

“Does it have to be anger?” Emma falls into her words, not entirely comfortable with that idea. “Why can’t I use...happiness?”

Regina gives her a sad smile. “You need a lot of practice to use positive energy. And we don’t have much time.”

That gets Emma’s attention. “What?”

“We should leave the tribe tomorrow, Emma. It is my fault that we lost two days. We need to find Henry. I talked with Tinkerbell, she knows where Pan’s camp is.”

“I thought Hook did too.”

“Really, Miss Swan? Have you had a thorough look at that poor excuse of a pirate? His flask and his ship are the only things he truly cares about.”

Emma rolls with her eyes. “Fine, whatever. So, back to magic. What do you want me to do? I mean, will the anger affect me in any way?”

“It will make you feel strong and invincible. Don’t fall for that lie, or you’ll end up like Darth Vader.”

“No way.”

“Pardon?”

“You know _Star Wars_?” Emma is on her knees now, leaning forward to have a closer look at Regina’s face. This is a joke, right?

“I raised a boy for ten years, who was a great Star Wars fan before he discovered Marvel and DC.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that...you know what, let’s skip that part and just tell me how to use the light sight of magic.”

Regina tilts her head slightly, crossing her legs. “You simply don’t use hatred and fury to fuel your powers. Anger is an emotion that comes from a place within you that lies in between happiness and exasperation. It’s … almost neutral, if you want.”

“Okay, I think I get it. Now what?”

“Now the fun part starts,” Regina smiles and her smile is wide and beautiful and _mischievous_.

#

Regina has a weird definition of fun. She’s using the most primal weapon: violence. She’s pushing Emma into the tall grass, until Emma snaps and desperately wishes to pay that bitch back.

And Regina was right.

Magic does the job, once she envisions a clear scenario in her head.

Regina is sitting on the ground, her hair a little bit disheveled, but her small smile is proud and genuine.

Emma feels oddly touched by that.

“Very good, Miss Swan. Are you sure you are a Charming?” Regina gets to her feet. “You are a fast learner, too fast to be related to them, in fact.”

As long as she doesn’t curse them all over again, these teasing remarks about her parents aren’t the worst thing in the world.

#

They notice the colorful lights on the night sky after they lie down on a small hill, a few steps away from their training spot.

Emma looks at the stars and colors and feels Regina’s body heat right next to her. “Why are polar lights a thing in Neverland?”

“These aren’t polar lights. This is magic,” Regina whispers with awe in her voice and Emma has to turn her head around to look at her, because Regina sounds relaxed and _content_. “I can feel it and my headache vanished and I feel … good.” A surprised chuckle escapes her throat.

Emma decides that Regina is even more beautiful in the colorful light of … magic lights? What the hell is this spectacle called then? “That’s good, right?” She doesn’t know whose idea it was to lie down, but she doesn’t really care. Her magic is still rushing through her veins and she feels like the heroine she never really wanted to be. She still doesn’t. But it’s nice and comforting to know that she can be that strong, brave person with a sword and magic.

“Yes,” Regina breathes and locks her eyes with hers. “This is more than I deserve.”

Emma is almost sure that they aren’t talking about magic and colorful lights anymore. She blinks and is suddenly aware of how close they are. It’s not like they ever cared about personal space, but they aren’t in the middle of an argument now, they are just two women lying incredibly close to each other. Emma could reach for Regina’s hand that rests right next to hers, if she wanted to.

And to her astonishment she really, really wants to hold her hand. She wants to make her smile more often like this, and she wants to keep making silly puns about pirates with hooks, because then Regina’s eyes light up and it’s enough to make her heart flutter.

“You shouldn’t look at me like this. Miss Swan. What will your parents say, if they knew?”

Emma blushes, but these words are not going to stop her. Good god, this is not the first time she wants to be more in Regina’s world. Not an everything, like Henry, but maybe someone who is enough. She entwines Regina’s warm soft fingers with hers and sighs. Regina doesn’t even flinch. Instead, her thumb stars to draw circles on the back of Emma’s hand and it’s tender and careful and _Regina_. “Nice try, but my parents never had any say in my decisions,” she starts and frowns. “The did once and I betrayed someone’s trust over it. I never apologized to her properly.”

Regina’s eyes glow in the yellow, orange and green light above their heads. “She forgave you a while ago,” she whispers back, inching closer. “How could I not? You are the only one who will ever bother to save me.”

“What about Henry?”

“The day I allow my son to save me, is the day he’s going to cart me off to some nursing home.”

“So, like in ten years already, since you are something like sixty—”

“Excuse you, I am thirty six.”

“Yeah, but technically—”

“Follow the broad hint if you see one, Miss Swan,” Regina tells her and she tries to sound irritated and annoyed, but she can’t. They are still too close, and yet not close enough.

Emma doesn’t know how long they keep staring at each other, barely breathing and then suddenly they are kissing and it’s a bit awkward, because their current position is super uncomfortable for their necks, so Emma pushes herself up, breaking the kiss, just to hover over Regina’s body. She kisses her again and again, because for a few moments their minds can be wonderfully blank and the world is not falling apart to ashes because of that.

Emma feels one warm hand on her hip, the other on her neck, and Regina’s soft lips part and she gets a taste of her tongue and a throaty noise and they can’t stop, Emma can’t stop, because deep down she still believes that nothing good lasts forever and they are currently on fucking Neverland, where everything is a fleeting moment of beauty. Her hand is on Regina’s cheek, the others sneaks underneath Regina to settle on her back. She can feel the buzzing, strong magic within her and herself and it’s alluring to her in ways she can’t even understand, let alone put into words.

They just stop to gasp for air. But Emma is still close enough to feel Regina’s smile, her heartbeat and her fingers comb through her damp hair. Emma’s knees and arms are protesting from all the hovering over Regina’s body, but she ignores the trembling of her muscles.

Emma’s left thumb touches Regina’s scar on her upper lip. “We should’ve started with magic lessons a while ago.” Emma smiles and Regina laughs softly.

“Better late than never.”

Emma can’t fight her on that.

#

They kiss and talk and kiss even more and then Regina starts to hum something, her hand moving through Emma’s hair, because Emma’s head is resting on her chest, right above her heart.

The former queen is asleep and Emma only lifts her head to see why her hand stopped to move. Regina looks almost ten years younger like this.

Emma lowers her head to the ground, her forehead touching Regina’s smooth cheek and her chin resting on her shoulder.

“Good night, Regina.”


	11. Chapter 11

Emma wakes with a start. She sits up, disentangling herself from Regina’s arms that somehow sneaked around her waist, and looks around. Something is not quite right. The sleepy tribe lies peacefully in front of them, nothing seems wrong.

“Bad dream?” Regina asks her, her voice thick with sleep. She sits up as well, stretching a bit and watching Emma’s frown.

“No, I just—I woke up.”

“That happens,” Regina whispers back.

Emma sighs. “I know. Can you feel that? This…buzzing in the air?” She looks up to the sky to check if it’s maybe still illuminated by different colors. But only the stars are looking down at them, glowing in the dark and endless distance.

Regina closes her eyes. “Faintly, but yes, it’s there.” She gives her a worried look. “As your teacher, I am impressed with how fast you learned to trust your magic. As your…, well, ally,” she has at least the decency to cringe at her own choice of words, because her hand on Emma’s small back is not where the hand of an ally belongs, “I don’t like the fact that your magic is already telling you about a nearing danger.”

Emma gets to her feet at that, extending a hand to help Regina. “Danger?” She feels how her heart starts to beat faster, her thoughts wandering to Henry, to her parents, even to Neal.

Regina opens her mouth to add something to that, but they are rudely interrupted by a jarring yell, loud voices and the sound of crying toddlers. The whole tribe seems to be awake within seconds.

“We need to go back,” Regina says.

Without thinking, Emma takes her hand and quickly marches towards the camp, her other hand resting on the hilt of her scabbard.

#

It feels like hours, to Henry.

Felix still didn’t return and Peter decides to inspect the signature of violence and death by himself. He’s oddly fascinated by the sight of blood and unnaturally bend limbs, but Henry can’t look long at the battlefield, at the arrows sticking out of skulls, chests and throats.

Felix’s aim seems immaculate.

Henry also doesn’t look at that one boy that has a crossbow bolt sticking out of his forehead. He just stands there, staring at the tip of his one shoe, before a hard breathing Peter is holding the other boot in front of him. He looks like he’s about to faint, and yet he smiles a sad, remorseful smile. “Your boot.”

“Thanks,” Henry rasps out, ignoring the blood on the dark leather while putting it on.

“This is what happened the last time, when you found me,” Peter says with a somber voice. “They always were ticking time bombs and Felix and I knew that the day would come and they would lose their minds.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Lost Boys. Never wondered why no one was trying to fight the Shadow’s orders? He controls them, Henry. Their hearts. He controls them, they all signed a contract with blood. This contract allows him to take as much energy from their hearts as he wants.”

Henry’s head jerks up and he watches Peter with wide eyes. “He has the hearts of the Lost Boys?” He thinks about the vault of his mom and the stories in his fairy tale book. This is real, this is a thing. It’s not something people have whispered suspicions, like in the case of Graham’s death. (He knows that his mom did it, though. He knows.)

Peter nods, taking a deep breath. “It’s more like he infects them with his…magic. He calls it Dreamshade. It’s like poison. It will make you his slave, should it get into your system. One bite from those little cannibals and within hours you will join them on their hunting hours. He didn’t infect mine, though, because he needs a healthy, strong heart within the body of the victim he chooses to control. It’s a complicated matter, his magic, and that’s why I am the lucky guy who didn’t lose his mind the past few days. However, he lived so long within me, that his…magic, that he uses to control these poor mindless boys, affects me negatively.”

Henry notices just now that they are walking off to the unlit fireplace. No corpses or blood or any signs of an ambush are here. They sit down on the log and bathe in the darkness. “And why didn’t Felix lose his mind?” He needs to know everything about this, because that is how he works and he wants to be little curious Henry again. Maybe, just maybe, he will forget about that bolt and the crossbow and the empty look in the dying boy’s eyes.

Peter looks away, poking with a stick in the still hot ashes in front of him. “I made a deal with the Shadow, once,” he says and it sounds like the only explanation he’s willing to give.

But then he continues, looking up at the sky. The stars are shining and for one second he forgets about everything and his already too long stay on this rotten island. “Did you notice that there are no Lost Girls on this island? They are completely useless for the Shadow. His poison, the Dreamshade, can’t affect them. Same goes for grown-ups, by the way. That’s why they have no right to be on his island. I never found out why, though and I probably never will.” There is this old, ancient sadness in his deep voice. It’s raw with emotion and his tired eyes are still staring at the starlit sky.

“What happened to you, Peter Pan?” Henry whispers, bending his knees and leaning slightly forward.

“It’s not a pretty story and I never told it to anyone before. It’s my most guarded secret, only the Shadow knows about it,” Peter replies slowly. He gives Henry a shy glance. “You sure you want to hear a story like this after everything … that has happened today?”

Henry hesitates, before he nods once. “Felix is still not here, so…” He trails off with a small shrug. A fire would’ve been great, because the night air is chilled and he shivers.

Peter focuses on his hands when he hears Felix’s name. “Once upon a time, the Shadow went to London. He was about to take two brothers with him, Michael and John, both very young and unaware of the dangers that lurk behind every corner, no matter which realm you live in. One day they made a horrible mistake and the youngest of them said ‘I believe’. That’s all the Shadow needs.”

“Why?”

Peter seems to look for the right works. “Why, to find the Truest Believer, of course. But don’t worry, I will make sure he stays away from you.” The words are small and pathetic, because Peter barely manages to sit up right. Henry waits for him to continue.

“He took the two brothers, but he didn’t notice their older sister, the oldest of the three of them. Her name was Wendy Moira Angela Darling,” he says and there is the smallest hint of a smile on his pale lips. “The Shadow returned and went back into my body, just to notice that he brought three instead of only two children with him.

“She was stubborn, independent and too intelligent for the Shadow’s liking. The Darlings were too happy, not desperate enough and they caused more trouble than the Shadow ever wanted to have on his island. It went so far that some Lost Boys started to wonder, you know? I remember, how furious he was about himself and he disappeared for some days into his dark castle.”

“Dark castle?”

“It’s actually a ruin of a castle, some towers and halls are still standing, but the roof is missing. It’s there.” He points to the volcano that is looming behind them like a bad omen.

Henry swallows. “Is somewhere there?”

“It’s in the volcano. The castle is enchanted. I have no idea how it got there and which poor souls had to built it. There are small steps leading down to it. I saw it once from afar, when I flew by.”

“You can _fly_?”

“I met Tinkerbell who still had some stolen pixie dust with her. She granted me some of it and that’s how I had the chance to fly. To feel free, while in reality I was just as much of a prisoner as the rest of the Lost Boys that were trapped in the cursed part of the island. You know, the Lost Boys and I, we can’t cross the line of the Shadow’s protection spell. Everything living under it doesn’t age.”

“Oh. But I could leave if I left the … cursed part of the island?”

“I would send you away, Henry, if I could be sure that you would be able to reach the Indian tribe alive. They are known to be kind brave people. But they are one day away from us and in my current state…”

“Maybe Felix could bring me there?” He should feel bad about his wish to leave that cursed part behind, to leave Peter Pan behind, but he can’t, because he killed someone and he doesn’t want to belong to this cruel game of the Shadow.

He briefly wonders what happened to Gre—Owen and Tamara.

Peter sighs. “Felix won’t come back, Henry.”

“What? Why? Where did he go?” Henry notices that he has jumped to his feet, his hands balled to fists. His crossbow clatters on his back and it makes him feel sick, but at the same time he can’t just leave the weapon behind, because they are still not safe here.

Peter ignores his question and simply goes on with his story. “The Shadow was away and I had a few days off. I spent most time with the Darlings, none of them infected and poisoned by the Shadow’s dark magic, not one of them had signed a contract with their blood yet. And … I suddenly had the need to protect these two little boys and that beautiful girl that was almost my age. Or that age my body is frozen in.

“At first, I tried to scare them, to make them leave. I gave them a bean and told them to leave, spending one whole day playing cruel games with them. But Wendy Darling was too kind, too… _everything_ to be scared off like that. She kept bubbling about a Baelfire and how she had to find him.”

“My dad? She knew my dad?”

Peter Pan looks at him as if he lost his good senses. “Henry, that was hundreds of years ago. I lost count, if I am honest with you. However, I have to ask you—how is that boy supposed to be your father?”

“No one ages on Neverland?” Henry reminds him and it feels funny to do so, because Peter spent _centuries_ here, he knows the rules of Neverland better than anyone.

“True, but Baelfire was brought back by the Shadow to the Land Without Magic after a while. 28 years ago, actually. Wendy was long gone before he somehow reached Neverland.” Peter starts to think, maybe count the years.

Henry does the math as well. He knows from Rumple’s story he heard in New York that his son was fourteen, fifteen years old when he lost him. It seems to fit.

“Okay,” Peter agrees a few seconds later. “He actually might be your father. Which is really weird to think about.”

“Why?”

“He was a child for so long himself, and then suddenly he has a son. But I bet he is a great father?”

“I…just met him. He didn’t raise me. I was adopted by my mom. He died a few days ago,” he swallows and it hurts somewhere deep in his chest. The pain of loss is so much different of the pain of lies and betrayal. Because it’s absolute. There is nothing to be done about it.

“I don’t understand. I thought a mother is the same woman that gave birth to you.”

Henry sighs, nodding. “Usually, but sometimes it doesn’t work out like that. Emma was too young to raise me, so she gave me my best chance. My mom adopted me and raised me as if I were her own son. I am her son.”

“And this Emma? What happened to her?”

“Can we get back to the story about Wendy and her brothers?” Henry rather wants to hear a story about people he knows from a Disney movie than trying to explain the complicated family tree he has to deal with.

“No,” Peter says stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I refuse to finish the story before you tell me what happened to her.”

He sighs. Who’s the child now? “Emma is the long lost child of Snow White and Prince Charming. The Savior,” he admits and watches how Peter’s brows rise to almost meet his hairline.

“You are the son of the Savior!” He actually clasps his hands in delight. “Of course! That explains why you are the Truest Believer. Well, almost.”

“Almost?”

“I didn’t tell you everything, Henry. The Truest Believer’s magic is unique, because it is the perfect balance between light and dark. You are basically living what you always thought to be true for each world; you are what the worlds can’t be.”

Henry feels weird and wrong, because he killed someone and he doesn’t feel like that special hero he is according to Peter’s words. “Really?” he whispers.

“Really. But who was that other mother of yours? You know, that one who raised you as her own son?”

“The Evil Queen.”

Peter starts to laugh and laugh until he ends up in a coughing fit. “It’s like a fairy tale,” he manages to say, before he slides off the log and continues to laugh, holding his stomach.

His laughter is contagious and Henry finds himself chuckling. Yeah, his family tree is truly too crazy to not be a part of an extraordinary tale.

After a few minutes, both calm down and Peter goes on with his story. “Where did I stop? Ah, yes. Wendy Darling and Baelfire. So, she and her brothers wanted to find him and I … I felt sorry for them. I apologized for the mind tricks I played on them to make them leave and they accepted my apology.

“We became friends after that. In fact, I liked Wendy … a lot more than that,” he confesses, and he knits his forehead. There is nothing left of his amusement, his delight about Henry’s unusual parentage. “I loved her. Or at least, I felt something close to love. You can’t find happiness on a cursed island. There is no happy ending awaiting you behind a tree or at the lake…you just have to live with your fate.

“I didn’t want that for her. I wanted her to be happy, to lead a normal life. All Darlings deserved better than this, Henry. I told her what I felt and why she had to go. Because even knowing that we could never be truly happy—for the love of god, we were just kids—I would want to keep her company. Her wit. Her smile. Her soft voice that could tell stories like no one else I had ever the pleasure to meet.” He closes his eyes, but Henry knows that he’s trying to hide his tears.

“She left. Her brothers went with her. I made a deal with the Shadow that I would never again help someone to escape his island, if he promised to never harm Wendy Darling or any of her blood relatives.

“In that time, I had her parents and brothers in mind. But time went on, Wendy Darling grew up—as did her brothers—and she married a wealthy, kind man. She had a daughter and a son.” He stops here, swallowing whatever emotions were trying to escape his throat.

Henry doesn’t dare to disturb the moment of silence.

“There was a huge fire. Only her son survived. He ran away and became a thief. He lived with other criminal orphans in the darkest corners of London,” Peter says and his voice suggests that the story reached its end.

“How … do you know all that?” Henry wonders quietly and tits his head.

Peter smiles faintly. “I stole Captain Hook’s enchanted telescope and kept an eye on Wendy and her family. That’s why Captain Hook spent a lot of time chasing after me. He got his telescope back, after a while. It was fun,” he remembers with a snicker.

Henry thinks and remembers something. “And what happened to that boy? What was his name?”

“Oh, he became a gifted thief. He was a silent, yet headstrong boy. Something he inhabited from his mother, I believe,” Peter says fondly. “One time, though, he didn’t pay attention and he and his friends got into trouble with some drunken men. A scar, caused by a dull knife, is still on his face.”

“Felix is her…?” Wow. Henry is speechless. “But why is he…?”

“Felix almost died, that night,” Felix says with a heavy sigh. “I reminded the Shadow of his deal, of his promise. And since Felix was a blood relative of Wendy Darling…for once, he had no choice. He brought him to the island and healed him. He promised to stay away from him, as long as I wouldn’t try to free him or to help him to escape Neverland.”

“Oh, okay.”

“He became my friend, despite the fact that the Shadow was using my body. He accepted that I wasn’t that cruel creature with yellow eyes, but the gloomy boy with green eyes.

“I never told him that I knew his mother. He has her eyes, you know?” Again that sad yet fond smile blossoms on his lips. A heartbroken smile, Henry thinks, and feels bad for Peter. It reminds him of his mom and her sad smiles.

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“I…don’t know. There was never enough time, the Shadow never left me for long after the Darlings incident. And after a while I didn’t want to tell him. And now I will never have the chance to tell him,” he says with a suffocated voice.

Henry feels his heart sinking. “What … do you mean?”

Peter doesn’t make a pause or tries to be careful about it. He just blatantly says how it is. “He was bitten, Henry. Remember what I told you about the Shadow’s Dreamshade and how it poisons the Lost Boys?”

Henry closes his eyes, a sad attempt to ignore the painful truth, but Peter doesn’t stop.

“He left us, my friend. To hunt down as many raving Lost Boys as possible, before he…”

“Before he…?” He pushes him to tell the whole story, but he doesn’t know why. He still wants to make this whole thing to stop, he just wants to get away from Peter’s sadness and his own troubles. His stay on the island stopped being funny since he ate that damn brownie.

“One day, I also stole Hook’s pistol. That pirate was constantly drunk, it was easy. He never found my camp to get it back, and now Felix has the pistol.” Peter looks away, away from Henry and his wide eyes and shocked expression in them. “There is only one bullet in it.”

Henry knows damn well what that means. Dear god. Make it stop. Make this all stop.

“I took his happy ending, Henry,” Peter suddenly says, tears now streaming down his face. His lower lip trembles and he looks so incredibly young. “I entrapped him on this island, because I couldn’t stand the thought of him dying. I took the choice away from him and now he has to die this ugly death, but I couldn’t stop him from that, because it was his _choice_ to leave us. He wanted to do that. And … I couldn’t…I just couldn’t…” He sobs and cries and rubs his eyes furiously to get rid of the bitter tears. “I just couldn’t take his last wish away from him, too. And if he stayed with us, I would have to kill him and that’s … that’s a reason why he left, too.”

Henry is crying too, more silently, more to himself, but he’s already grieving for a boy who saved his life and taught him patiently how to use a crossbow and who never doubted Peter’s loyalty.

He cries for Wendy Darling’s son and his horrible fate.

And he cries for himself, because he killed an insane Lost Boy.

#

The tribe is a mess. Chaos and anxiety are spreading like a wild fire and Emma has a hard time finding out where the problem lies. Regina is still holding her hand.

They watch how warriors armed with spears and bows run towards the dark jungle. Some of them are sitting on horses, yelling orders to each other.

Emma turns to Regina. “Go to my parents or Tinkerbell and stay there,” she pleads, trying to swallow her own fear down.

Regina seems to be more than just unhappy with her implied decision. “You do realize this is not your task, dear? We owe them nothing and you don’t have to die for them.”

“I won’t die,” Emma promises, kissing her cheek. “Go.” She lets go of the warm soft hand and her body immediately regrets the loss.

Regina crosses her arms. “I could help,” she insists, lifting proudly her chin.

Emma knows where this is going and they really don’t have time for this. “No, you can’t. You are still not fully recovered and your magic is still not really back. What do you plan to use as a weapon?”

“You think I am defenseless without magic?”

“Well, it’s not like you could go and throw apples at them, ‘cause that won’t work here,” Emma tells her with a serious face.

Regina glares and glares and finally sighs in defeat. “Fine.”

Emma gives her a small smile. She is about to leave when she sees Pocahontas approaching them with a bow and quiver in her hands, her movements too fast, too hectic.

“Savior, Regina,” Pocahontas nods, her dark eyes filled with distress and concern. “Your family gathered in Neal’s teepee. My sister is there as well.”

Emma looks at Regina. “You should go there, then.”

“Emma…”

“I’ll be there in a few,” she smiles and she knows that it doesn’t reach her eyes. It looks most likely like a grimace above anything else.

Regina closes her eyes and turns away, walking off quickly.

“We should go,” Pocahontas’ voice pulls her back to the present time. Emma jogs with her to the group of horsemen, Kocoum giving orders.

“What is happening? Are we under attack?”

“We don’t understand how this happened, but the Shadow is more powerful and he—”

She never finishes her sentence. There is a tumult coming from the jungle, the first warriors running back, shouting something Emma doesn’t understand, but Pocahontas grows tense next to her. “Oh no,” she whispers. “Not again.”

“What?”

“Cannibal’s Cove pays us a visit,” she breathes, preparing her bow and Emma gets into position. The horses neigh impatiently, the riders hollering words to each other and then they gallop off to meet the danger before it can reach the tribe.

They are too many. Emma quickly finds out that the cannibals turn out to be _children_ , boys with an insane look in their empty dark eyes and their hands are formed into claws. They look like zombies who escaped from a horror movie.

Or Emma just entered one.

Fucking hell.

She can’t … kill children. Pocahontas disappears in the crowd of warriors and Emma has no time to follow her, because suddenly there are boys around her, their darting eyes glowing in the burning fireplaces and torches between the teepees.

She has seconds left to react and she doesn’t know _how_. She thinks about magic and Regina’s words and then her survival is ensured by her instincts. She ducks, she skips back and suddenly there is a boy of Henry’s age impaled on her sword.

No. No. No.

Blood is rushing in her ears and she is trembling. She wants to throw her sword away, along with her life, _because holy fucking shit there is a kid bleeding on her sword, dying with maniac laughter_.

She swirls around, pulling the dark blood covered blade out of the boy, before she sidesteps to avoid ugly scratches in her face. She feels her anger bubbling up, pushing the shock and disgust about herself away, so far away, until it’s just a lingering thought in the back of her head.

Her magic takes over after she slits the chest of the second zombie-or-something-like-that open. There is no room for self-hatred. Her magic makes her feel strong, confident and brave. Her movements become more fluent, faster and with a grace she never considered possible. Her mind is blank, the blows and cuts happening on its own. She feels _everything_ around her; the arrows hissing through the night air, the smell of sweat, blood and death lies like a heavy cloud above their heads.

 

The warmth of her magic is burning through her body, and at some point she loses count of how many times she has to draw her sword out of a limb, motionless body lying on the hard ground.

She grits her teeth, and looks around, trying to assess how many of these horrible creatures she can stop. Her magic transports her with the speed of light from one place to another and that’s when she has no control over it anymore. It does what it deems to be right and she just goes with it. It’s a weird feeling to be so disconnected to her own actions but she doesn’t freak out about it. It’s like her mind is numbed, drugged by the sheer force of her magic.

She has no idea how much time passed but suddenly she is standing in the middle of the camp, teepees are burning around her and her gray top is covered with sweat and black blood and her heart is racing like mad in her ribcage.

Her hands are trembling.

The magic is dissipating as suddenly as it came and the ugly truth crushes back down to her, her knees giving in. The sword lies next to her and she breathes hard, the smell of smoke surrounding her. Tears burn in her eyes and she hates herself, she hates that she wasn’t there for Henry, she hates that Regina has no magic and suffers because she wasn’t fast enough, she hates the two bastards who dared to kidnap her son, she hates _everything_. She feels the magic again, heavy and forceful. There is no lightness to it.

Some of the Indians are looking at her with wide impressed eyes and the warriors are tending to their wounds and not really paying any attention to her.

“Emma.” There is a warm soft hand on her shoulder. Regina.

She sobs and shakes her head, because the Savior is in reality a sick fuck up who kills children like they’re not real. She doesn’t care that they obviously lost their minds. She stopped thinking about their deaths at some point. She just did it. “I lost control over my magic,” she tells her because Regina has to know, perhaps she already does. Maybe that’s why she’s understanding, pretending to care? “You were right. With the losing control over magic bit.” A wavering breath. “I’ve become Darth Vader,” she whispers with bitter disappointment in her broken voice, and then there are arms around her shoulder and a chin resting on her head and it’s _real_. “I killed the younglings.”

She isn’t sure if Regina’s is sobbing or trying to hold back a sad chuckle about this macabre comparison. “These children weren’t really human anymore, Emma. You saved us, the tribe—you aren’t a horrible person now. You are still the idiot named Emma Swan that attacked my precious apple tree, once upon a time.”

“Oh god. And you are complaining about my puns?” She allows Regina to help her to her feet and looks behind her to see Hook, holding his arm and listening to Tink’s tirade about how “careless and stupid” he is.

Regina and Emma share a look. And smile.

But then David appears behind Hook in the entrance of the teepee and Emma drops Regina’s hand as if she was burned by its touch. “Emma,” he says and his eyes are red rimmed and he looks close to tears.

Neal’s teepee.

He left Neal’s teepee.

Oh no.

“I’ll wait outside,” Regina whispers, not touching her again and Emma wants to ask her to come with her and to face the inevitable with her. But she knows that she has to do this on her own.

She shuffles towards the teepee, not meeting Hook’s sorry gaze or David’s sadness in his pale tired face.

Snow is in the teepee when she enters it but she gets to her feet the moment she spots her. “Emma, I am so sorry,” she mouths and touches her shoulder, a gentle comforting gesture, but Emma barely acknowledges it. Her body is filled with confusing emotions. She checks if Snow has left, then she crouches down next to Neal’s bed.

He looks really, really bad.

His chest is barely moving and he looks like he already shook hands with Death. “Hey,” she makes softly, not sure what to do or to say.

Neal’s eyes open slightly with a groan. “Ems,” he whispers, his voice raw and thick with exhaustion. He’s dying and it’s a horrible sight. “I…what was going…on…?” He can’t even formulate full questions and it makes Emma realize that there isn’t much left of that witty, resourceful thief she met all these years ago.

She takes his hand in hers. “I wish you didn’t have to die,” she tells him.

“But not…because you…love me and…” He coughs and breathes and closes his eyes. “Right?”

It’s a sin to lie to a dying man just to make him feel better, right? “No,” she admits and feels so, so tired. Her muscles are exhausted, now that the magic disappeared.

She feels like she could sleep for the next ten years. Maybe Regina can fix some sleeping curse or something.

She winces. Bad time for internal jokes.

“I just want you…to be happy…even if it’s not with me, Emma,” he rasps out, before he coughs again, his face contorting into a grimace of pain and agony. “We never made it to Tallahassee, hm?”

“Neal…”

“’s okay. My … own damn fault. I … fucked up and I am sorry for … that.” His grip around her hand grows stronger. “She was pacing around and … calling you an idiot, but I hope … she makes you happy.”

“How…?” She knows that he’s talking about Regina. No one else likes her to call an idiot for no apparent reason. Sometimes she just calls her an idiot, because she is directly related to Snow White and Prince Charming. Old habits die hard, especially the habits of a former Evil Queen. “How do you know?”

“She cares about … you. Go and find … Tallahassee, Emma.” The air rattles in his throat, as if it were stuck there. He swallows, gasps and his lungs fight for some more air, but he’s too weak and she can see the blood soaked bandages around his torso and stomach.

She closes her eyes and leans her forehead against his cold hand, holding on and trying to be the brave person Henry believes her to be (believes, not believed, because, even though there are zombie kids roaming through the jungle, her son is still well and alive) albeit she doesn’t feel like a hero or savior.

She feels like shit, covered in blood and sweat.

And she is alone with that, because Neal isn’t breathing anymore and there is no heartbeat and she’s crying now because, fuck she lost him for the second time—and this time it is for good.

Neal is dead and there are still so many things left unsaid and she will never get the chance to say them or to make things better.

Because this is not a fairy tale and people die.


	12. Chapter 12

Henry is lying next to Peter on the cold, mouldy ground. There was an earthquake some minutes ago and Peter just sighed and said that this was to be expected. Henry didn’t ask what he meant and now he’s brooding over it.

“Did this happen before? With the Lost Boys?” he eventually breaks the silence between them.

Peter can’t sleep, because his body is still missing the presence of the Shadow and his magic and the lack of both is expressed with chest pain and trouble to breathe properly. Peter remains silent and motionless for some seconds, lost in his thoughts. “It did. The Shadow used it to get rid of the pirate, though.”

“What?” “He wanted to get Hook off the island, 30 years ago. He was friends with Tinkerbell and the Shadow feared a possible…development in their relationship.”

“I don’t understand.” He can feel Peter’s annoyance and his eye roll in the darkness.

“Love, Henry. The Shadow fears True Love. It’s a wild card. He doesn’t know what would happen to his magic, to his power over his part of Neverland. Hence the plan to get rid of him.

“He unleashed hell on Neverland and that coward Hook left Tinkerbell behind. He wanted to get his revenge on that crocodile of his. He never could shut up about how he lost his hand,” Peter remarks dryly. “He’s a prat, not a pirate.”

“Wait, so he simply left Tinkerbell behind?” He never liked that pirate with the hook, especially not after the stories Emma has told him about the infamous Captain Hook, who betrayed them and teamed up with Cora. He briefly wonders what the pirate is doing now.

Peter sighs. “Pirates only honor their own codex and nothing else. There was a time I wanted to be one of them. But I couldn’t, because that damn Shadow was everywhere I was.”

“But now you could get away,” Henry muses aloud, aware of the fact that Peter is weak and filled with hatred for his current condition, though it’s not his fault. Nothing is. He’s a victim, just as much as anyone else on this island. Even the Lost Boys can’t help their fate—a higher power controls them and transforms them into these mindless beasts and monsters who snap after other people.

“And yet, here we are,” Peter adds with a yawn. “Is it wrong to say that I am happy you didn’t leave me, Henry? You should, but then again you wouldn’t survive the night.”

The fire in front of them is warming their feet and it lights the little camp with the flipped table and the mess that Peter has left behind. No one cares. Henry stares into the flames. He could leave Peter behind. Take his crossbow, some bolts and try his luck. But he has no idea where to look and a small, tiny part of him still hopes for his mom and Emma to suddenly appear between the palms, coming for him.

“We are friends now,” Henry decides after a while, “And no one should die alone,” he continues, not sure if he’s talking about his own possible death should he decide to go into the dark jungle or about Peter’s poor condition. Or maybe Felix, who certainly took the loaded pistol and—

“I’d drink to that…if I had some rum.”

Henry chuckles despite their hopeless situation. It’s like waiting for the world to end, for death to come and it’s horrible.

He closes his eyes and tries to get some sleep.

“Sleep tight, Henry.”

#

The whole tribe seems to be gathered at the shore, near the fields where Emma and Regina watched the stars mere hours ago. Now they are standing as far away from each other as possible, since David is giving them weird looks.

Emma isn’t sure if he saw them holding hands, or if he’s just checking if she’s okay.

She’s not.

The other Indians are standing with their families in circles around their lost loved ones, who are resting in boats, wrapped in white blankets. Wistful chants are filling the cold, foggy morning air. Neal’s body is lying in front of them, covered in a white sheet as well. Everyone is looking at her.

They are waiting for her sign.

She nods and Hook, with David’s help, gives the boat a strong push into the calm sea. The canoe rocks softly in the small waves. “Rest in peace, Baelfire, son of Rumpelstiltskin and…Milah,” he whispers with a humble small bow.

Tinkerbell is watching him with tearful eyes, perhaps checking if his bandage is still in place. A spear of an Indian warrior has accidentally cut his left arm and now the ex-fairy has ordered him to wear an armrest.

To everyone’s surprise he didn’t even talk back.

Death can do that to a group.

They silently watch the fire of the torches sticking out of the sand and she can feel Snow’s hand in hers and she doesn’t mind, because Snow is and will always be her mom and she’s glad that she’s here. David is touching her shoulder and everything feels okay-ish, considering the circumstances.

An hour later, they leave the shore that is filled with burning piles of dry wood. Fourteen people didn’t survive the attack, eight people were injured during the fight and Hook is one of them. They all tell her that she’s the reason why the death count isn’t higher than that and it’s supposed to make her feel better, but it doesn’t, because no matter what, whenever she closes her eyes, she sees the silhouettes of the boys attacking her and then—

“We should leave as soon as possible,” Regina says, suddenly next to her.

They are sitting in front of her and Regina’s teepee, drinking hot tea and thinking about death and how one night can change so many lives.

“Yeah,” Emma agrees. “Henry,” she adds with a tired yawn, but trying to fall asleep is as pointless as trying to wake the death. It’s just not possible right now.

“Henry,” Regina smiles an unsteady, broken smile, because of course she thinks about zombie boys running through the jungle and Henry. Maybe she also thinks about the small earthquake some hours ago. Something is going on in Neverland, but they don’t know what and it makes them fidgety.

Snow and David are whispering to each other, while Hook and Tinkerbell share his flask. Maybe that fairy is still fond of that dumb pirate and just tries to pretend otherwise.

Emma doesn’t care. At least he’s not hitting on her anymore and she welcomes this change with open arms. No more innuendos, no more sorry attempts at flirting.

There are soft steps behind her, and when Emma turns she can see Pocahontas’ sad face. Kocoum was one of the dead and she feels sorry for her loss. He was a kind man, even if she knew him very shortly, he taught her most of the movements she used combined with her magic last night to kill all these monsters in disguise.

“We prepared some things for you and your company, Savior. And I would feel honored if I could braid your hair and give you this,” she says holding up a lily-white feather. “It’s a swan’s feather and it shall belong to you.”

She’s oddly touched by that. “You want to…” She doesn’t know what to say.

“You saved us, last night. The burden of your noble deed should be honored appropriately.”

Emma gets to her feet, feeling the eyes of the rest of the group on her back. She can see Pocahontas’ father and most of the tribe members staying in the distance, watching the whole scene.

“Will you accept my gift, Swan Warrior?”

“Swan Warrior?” Emma smiles, still unsure if this is really happening. How can her actions from last night be worth a gesture like this?

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You are an honorary member of our tribe then, Savior.”

“I like Swan Warrior more,” Emma quickly says and it’s the truth because this is not a title, it’s a name, given to her as a gift together with that white swan feather. “Fine. I accept your offer.”

Pocahontas bows her head and smiles at her. “Very well, Swan Warrior. Follow me.”

#

One hour later, when the sun is finally up and warming the air around them up, Emma’s hair is finished. It’s a complicated knot, wisps of hair were weaved together by gifted hands. A few tresses seem to have escaped the tight knot on the back of her head, almost touching her neck. The feather plaited in one of these tresses. At least that’s what Pocahontas told her and no one corrected her.

“You look…different,” Snow says, a unfathomable look in her eyes.

Emma dips her head. “I feel different,” she counters and she sees David’s smile.

Hook lifts a thumb and wiggles with his eyebrows, receiving from Tink a well-deserved swat on his shoulder.

Regina’s smile is almost invisible, but it reaches her eyes that are also filled with concern and sorrow.

She turns to Pocahontas. “Thank you. For everything.”

“It was my pleasure, Swan Warrior. I do hope you will find your son.”

Emma smiles and looks at the faces of the rest of the tribe. They all look tired, exhausted even and yet they are staying here to see her and how Pocahontas officially made her an honorary member of this tribe.

Emma makes up her mind. “Can you translate something for me?”

She gets a surprised look back. “Of course,” Pocahontas quickly agrees, playing with Tiger Lily’s hair. Her sister came to help her with Emma’s curls (that needed to be washed at first).

Emma finds a log and climbs up on it, standing on a higher ground now. It’s a weird feeling to be in the center of attention, but she stops herself from self-consciously touching the circle of her necklace.

“I wanted to thank you all for your kindness and generous help,” she begins, looking around and waiting for Pocahontas’ translation. Her words sound strange in their native language. “And I am sorry about your loss,” she adds, thinking about her own.

Pocahontas’ breathing hitches at the last word.

“I want to promise you something,” she says, louder and with more force in her voice this time. “I will end your isolation on this island. I will end the curse that threatens your peaceful life.” She knows that she’s fishing for smart words and she’s desperately trying to avoid words like “crap”, “shit” or “fuckery”. All three would apply to this island and its sick rules, though.

“But the most important thing is: I will find Peter Pan and I will end his miserable existence. I will make him pay for all the lives he took, for all the lives he destroyed.”

She can hear the growing rapture and exaltation among the crowd. “I will destroy him, if it’s the last thing I do,” she adds for good measure, looking at Regina who arches a perfectly sculpted brow but it’s hard to tell what she truly thinks about this. Her eyes are too far away and Emma can’t read the expression in them. She half expects her to reach into the inner pocket of her blazer to retrieve a document that proves her ownership of a patent pending for this line.

Her parents look scandalized.

Hook is drinking again, cheering with the rest of the crowd, getting another slap from Tink, this time on the back of his head. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Pocahontas watches her jump off the log. “Impressive speech, Swan Warrior. My people will be forever grateful if you can really stop that demon boy.”

“I will,” she says with emphasis. “He’s probably the reason why my son is here.”

Her parents and the rest of her company join her. They are all fully armed (except Regina and Tink) and ready to go.

Pocahontas and Tiger Lily make weird gestures with their hands. “That’s how we say goodbye,” Tiger Lily explains.

Emma gets it right after the third try.

“Goodbye. And thank you!”

“Be careful, Swan Warrior.”

#

The sun is shining and Peter looks really unhappy about this. “The light hurts my irritable eyes. I also don’t feel like sunshine and hot humid air. How about rain? Or snow? Hell, I’d even take a storm.”

“Peter,” Henry scolds him with a sigh and wow, when did he start to sound like his mom?

Peter covers his eyes with his hands. “Is this how your mom sounds? The Evil Queen Mom, I mean.”

“Sometimes, when I didn’t want to eat my vegetables or when I refused to get up or when I left my shoes on the stairs, she would sound like that, so...yeah, that was totally a mom-voice,” he chuckles and it’s weird because he killed someone, but with each passing minute it feels further and further away. As if it didn’t happen, as if it were a part of a very vivid dream.

“I never really had a mom. Sounds awesome,” Peter murmurs sleepily and Henry knows that Peter should leave. The stay on this island is more and more toxic for him, but he can’t walk, he already has troubles to speak. Even his eyebrows are barely moving while he talks and this can’t be a good sign.

“She is awesome,” Henry whispers and he wants to add something about his mom’s lasagna and how she was able to make voices while reading him bedtime stories, but a low, deep rumble of the island stops him.

Another earthquake?

“Peter, what is going on?”

“Something horrible, young friend. Something horrible, indeed.” Peter also sounds more and more like a British gentleman and he really doesn’t know what to do with that.

#

They stand still and give each other freaked out looks.

David holds Snow’s hand and Tinkerbell is trying to smile, but fails. “Earthquakes do...happen on this island,” she says with a shrug and Hook scoffs at that.

“Aye, almost always accompanied by man flesh eating boys,” the pirate adds dryly with a lifted brow and a lowered head, looking through his ridiculously long lashes.

Tink looks like she’s about to kill him.

Emma would help her hide the body without a second thought.

“Tell me, Killian Jones,”—damn, it’s weird to hear Hook’s real name—“have you already forgotten how you left me behind on this island to save your sorry ass before the cannibals stormed the jungle like it belonged exclusively to them and no one else?”

Hook reaches for his flask. “I didn’t know this would happen. I planned to leave—” He stops himself, realizing that finishing this sentence would do him no good. “We should continue our search for the queen’s boy and get off the island as fast as possible.”

They start walking again and Emma is thankful for that. Movement means no time to think about dead children and ex-lovers who betrayed her a decade ago. Walking means casually brushing Regina’s hand without getting caught by her parents, who are walking in front of them.

“Did you at least kill him?” Tink breaks the silence after a moment, when the earthquake finally stops. It’s not really a tremor, it feels like the... island is alive. The thick scent of bitter-tasting magic is filling the air. At least the temperature dropped a bit.

“Who?”

“Your crocodile.”

“Ah. No, still working on it.”

“That’s disappointing,” Tink remarks and Hook sighs.

“He is the Dark One. And I tried to kill him,” he urges. (Who the hell thought it would be wise to let them walk ahead together?)

Emma rolls her eyes.“Yeah, he almost killed his girlfriend. So maybe he was aiming for a metaphorical death of Rumpelstiltskin,” she taunts and her parents give her a chiding look. They might be the same age as Emma, but oh god, they do look like parents right now.

And Emma feels like the five year old who tried to steal more sweets and got busted.

Hook swirls around, staring her down. “He killed my True Love, Swan. Do you think this disgusting peasant deserves forgiveness? See, it’s one thing that I lost my hand. But he killed his own wife to…to…” He clenches his hand into a fist and grits his teeth. Emma lowers her gaze.

“Can we just...get to Pan’s camp?”

“Yes, let’s go,” David agrees with a small sigh and they trail behind Hook and Tink.

Regina’s pinkie is holding hers while they walk behind them.

#

They cross a small river at some point and Emma isn’t prepared for the sight.

A dead body is floating there, a tall boy with light, wet hair and a dark cloak on his back. They can’t see his face, but whatever happened to him, it colored the water around him in a light red.

Blood.

“They were here first,” David whispers, crouched down next to Emma, inspecting the footprints and traces of blood. They all stop to look at the drifting corpse, but there are more dead zombie kids resting on the gravel bank, their limbs oddly bent and some of them are reposing in pools of blood.

“Should we...should we check?” Hook clears his throat and rubs his stubbly chin with his thumb. They all know what he means.

Emma can feel how Regina’s breath stops midway down to her lungs. How she gasps for air a second later. And how that sounds like a horrified sob.

“It’s...I mean, it could be...possible,” Tink stammers and she looks over to Emma. “What do you think?”

She doesn’t know if she’s thinking at all. And when the hell was she appointed to be the leader of this group? But she’s too tired, too crestfallen to suggest something else. “We should go in pairs. How close is the camp?”

“It’s right there, on the other side of the lake. There is no real path guiding you there. You have to follow the ropes that are attached and knotted to the branches,” Tink explains patiently, waving with her hand in the direction where the camp lies.

“Good,” Emma breathes. “Regina and I, we will go in that direction. You check...everything else around that area,” she swallows and peeks at Regina’s deathly pale face. She can see nothing but desperate fear on her worn out features.

There is another convulsion beneath their moving feet when they all walk away in different directions. Emma nods at her parents, before leaving them behind. She takes her sword in her hand and walks ahead.

Regina is awfully silent.

Their breathing is the only sound between them and it’s unnerving. The whole jungle is too silent; no apes hollering in the distance, no birds chirping in the trees, nothing. The jungle is dead and it fills Emma’s whole body with something she can’t even name. But it’s enough to make her magic flare up, making her feel at least unconquerable.

They carefully examine the bodies they find. Someone used a slim blade, a dagger perhaps, to cut through their throats and stomachs. Sometimes the innards flowed out and there lingers a horrible, disgusting stench in the air.

Emma breathes through the mouth. “I am not sure if I should be happy that other boys than Henry had to die,” she confesses, because yes, she’s happy not to see Henry among the deaths, but so many, many boys died. Only the black blood, pale faces and a web of dark veins piercing through the paper thin skin are proof enough that these children died long before the blade finished the job.

Regina averts her gaze. “I want to go home,” she says with a frown. Her voice sounds far away. “I want to find Henry and go home.”

Emma doesn’t touch Regina, because she’s not sure if she should, if this is okay right now, so she stands awkwardly there and waits for Regina to look at her. Dark eyes find hers and they stare at each other, not sure how to cope with everything. Them. Henry. This island.

“We would feel his death,” Emma says, not sure if she’s right or not. But she wants to believe in that, because it gives her hope and it seems to be the right thing to say.

“Yes, we would,” Regina nods, wiping the tears off her cheeks. “We are close, I think I spotted a treehouse over there,” she suddenly changes the subject and walks ahead. The moment is over.

Emma casts a last look at the boy who never grew older than five or six years. A badge with the name “Billy” is attached to the laces of his dark blue coat. “I am sorry, Billy,” she whispers, following Regina’s quick footsteps.

#

Henry blinks against the sunlight.

“Peter?” His friend is snoring and Henry sits up. He fell asleep and now his back is killing him. He gets to his feet, grabs his crossbow and checks if his quiver is fastened to his belt and his left thigh is still filled with enough sharp bolts. He frowns.

There are voices in the distance.

“Felix?” What a silly, stupid thought. Henry ignores the reeking smell around them and tiptoes around the corpses on the ground. He doesn’t look at them, he just...god, they should at least bury them or something, but he’s not going to do that, because he doesn’t know how and also, eww. But someone should. Just. Peter is half dead himself and Felix won’t come back.

He feels the tears threatening to fall and he blinks them away, forcing them back. No. Not now.

He inspects the surroundings and listens carefully to every noise, every rustling, every moving leaf in the soft breeze. The earth is still moving, growling and shifting. His heart is beating faster and he doesn’t know why. Maybe his magic is trying to warn him? Please, let it be a deer or something else and not another Lost Boy.

He loads his crossbow and holds it to his shoulder, ready to aim and shoot if he’s forced to. He stalks slowly ahead, his heart beat drumming in his ears. There. Voices. He swirls around, inhaling a big intake of oxygen. Not again. But are Lost Boys talking with each other? He remembers how silent they were when he first saw them. He swallows, and sweats and prays to a god he never really learned to believe in.

He likes to believe in things that are real and there, a cracking branch.

A soft curse.

Dark hair, looking like raven hair in the shadow of the tall trees, and blonde curls.

His mouth is dry and his throat is on fire and he feels like crying.

 _They really came_.

#

“Careful,” Emma warns Regina and holds a branch for her. “Good god, I am no damsel in distress, Emma.” She sounds sour about something and Emma is pretty sure it has nothing to do with her gesture. “I guess you would win a fight with a branch,”

Emma manages to smile, before she receives Regina’s judging death glare. “Sorry. Just...what’s wrong? Besides the obvious, of course.” Regina shrugs Emma’s implied suspicion off like it’s nonsense.

“Nothing is wrong. Why should be something awry? After a speech like that.”

“Ah, the speech,” Emma sighs and of course Regina picked this moment to talk about that with her. “What’s the matter?”

Regina suddenly stops and they are breathing the same air, their lips almost touching. “Dying, while trying to do something altruistic like saving a whole tribe on a cursed island is not going to heal you from the horrors you’ve seen and...and done,” she adds after a beat, holding Emma’s gaze. “You are only going to be dead, then.”

“But I am the Savior,” she protests weakly, because damn this woman and her ability to call you out on a bluff like this. “I was born to die like some fucking martyr,” she grunts with a grimly look.

“You were born to break my curse and kill me and look how you managed to fulfill only half of your prophesied destiny, just like you always do only half of the paperwork or skipping your patrol rounds. So why start being thorough now, dear?”

“Wow,” Emma makes speechless. “Did you just make a joke about my whole existence?”

“You broke my curse by accident, does that even count as fulfilling your destiny?” Regina continues to muse aloud, her sass lacing every word. “Remind me to ask Gold about that,” she snickers and this is her running away from the ugly facts surrounding them and her smile never reaches her eyes.

Emma feels herself relax a bit, even though they are close to the camp and just finished investigating a massacre. “Would you please stop?”

“Then again, Snow White also ruined my life by accident, so it seems to run in your family.”

“Why do we always end up here? Will you ever—”Emma runs into Regina, who suddenly stops dead in her tracks and now stares at something. Emma’s heart stops when she spots the figure standing between trees.

A boy, wearing dark clothes, black boots and a belt around his waist with a quiver attached to it stands there, a crossbow in his arms. His pale face still looks the same, and yet he looks like a stranger in the first second.

“Henry,” Regina sobs and they both shiver, because henryhenryhenry and he’s alive. He drops his crossbow and catapults himself into Regina’s arms, sobbing into her neck. They crouch down and Emma hovers behind them, because this moment belongs to Regina and Henry, and to them alone. She hears something like “my little prince” and “I knew you would come” between sobs and soft kisses on Henry’s forehead.

Emma’s tears are running silently down her cheeks and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. She isn’t ashamed of her tears of joy.

“Emma,” Henry blurts out and throws himself at her, his arm closing around her middle. He is alive and even though he doesn’t smell like Regina’s washing powder anymore, he’s still Henry.

“Missed you, kid,” she whispers in his ear, after falling to her knees, because he’s alive and everything is good. In this moment, nothing else matters.

At some point the three of them are huddled together in a tight hug and it’s difficult to breathe, but she can’t let go, can’t stop to hold his hand and keep Regina close. Some more minutes pass, before they can talk again.

They sit in a small circle, watching Henry adjusting the quiver and that’s when the harsh reality of Henry’s change hits them.

“Are you okay?” Regina asks him and how could she have ever doubted her love for him.

Henry doesn’t meet her eyes.“I am not hurt,” he says and lifts his gaze. “I am not hurt.”

It’s not a lie, Emma knows. But he isn’t answering the question.

Regina doesn’t push him though, she just keeps stroking his unwashed hair that is due for a haircut and his dirty face. The traces of his tears are visible on his skin, it’s where the tears washed the dirt from the last few days away. He lost weight. And he looks older, somehow.

He clears his throat. “Are you alone here?”

“No, your grandparents, Hook and Tinkerbell were helping us,” Regina replies with a soft smile. It’s a smile just for Henry.

“Tinkerbell is real?” There is no excitement in his eyes or voice, just resigned acceptance.

Dear god, what happened to her curious little son with his unwavering beliefs in fairy tales?

#

Henry feels too much.

His moms are here, and after some minutes his grandparents and Hook with a blonde woman (Tinkerbell, obviously) stumble across them, still sitting on the ground. There are a lot of tight hugs, tears of his grandparents and the immoral offer to have a sip out of a flask that ends with a jab with Tink’s elbow between Hook’s ribs.

He feels warm and _whole_ again. His family (and a pirate and an ex-fairy) are here to take him off the island. Finally.

“What were you doing here, kid?” Emma finally asks and that’s when he remembers.

“We have to go,” he says hastily, taking his crossbow and putting it on his back. He looks back at them. “Come on, it’s okay, we’re safe here...or something like that,” he mumbles, because no, they are not safe here. Never.

They follow him reluctantly, but they follow him.

He keeps his gaze fixed on the smouldering fireplace and then his gaze finds Peter’s sitting form.

“I thought you decided to leave me. Couldn’t blame you for that,” Peter says with a crooked smile and lifted eyebrows. He looks better.“Oh, you brought friends! How unfortunate, I am all out of tea at the moment.”

Henry chuckles and turns to face his parents and the rest of his family and...friends. (Why is the pirate even here?)

Emma, with her weird hairstyle, eyes Peter suspiciously and lifts her sword.“Henry is this…?”

“No!” He almost yells, once he deciphers her intentions. “Don’t hurt him, he’s not the bad guy here. He’s not poisoned by Dreamshade, so he won’t lose his mind like the other Lost Boys. The Shadow just used his body, because he doesn’t have his own. But he’s okay now.”

“I...okay,” Emma steps back, next to his mom, and makes a puzzled face. “Where is that...shadow now?”

“In Owen Flynn’s body, I assume,” Peter says with a heavy sigh, still not moving. He glances at them, frowning. “How much trouble would it be to take me with you?”

“Too much,” Hook mumbles darkly, turning away. Henry remembers the grudge the pirate holds against Peter and he can’t blame him for reacting like this.

“Hook,” Tink groans, the rest watching it with a certain kind of amusement.

Henry looks to his mom and Emma. “Can we help him? How did you come here?”

“On Hook’s ship,” David tells him.

“With real pirates on it,” he adds.

“Aye,” Hook nods, facing them again. His thumb is touching the corner of his mouth. He gives David an irritated look.

“But if your friend doesn’t behave on my ship, I will make him walk the plank.”

“No walking possible right now, mate,” Peter says with a shrug. “I’ll probably pass out once I leave this island for the first time in...centuries.”

Emma and Snow look at him with wide eyes, while his mom keeps staring at Henry as if she’s afraid that this is just a dream. But they are here and they are together. They will get out of here, together. With Peter.

“What a lovely scene,” comes a snide remark from behind.

They all swirl around (except Peter, who only turns his head) and look at Owen Flynn’s body coming closer. His eyes are glowing red now, and he holds a gun in his hand, pointing right at Henry.

“A family reunion. You were so close to get your happy ending, weren’t you?” The hand with the gun doesn’t tremble a bit. Magic, Henry thinks, not really able to breathe.

Emma and David lift their swords, glaring at him grimly.

“What do you want?” Emma seethes and her soft, tender eyes are hard and furious. She looks like Emma, but something is different about her. Her whole postures speaks of power and confidence.

Henry tilts his head, holding his breath.

The Shadow laughs, throwing his head back. “I am here for Henry’s heart. I know that you are the Truest Believer, but you weren’t ready yet—or, to be more precise, your heart wasn’t. Unlike now.”

“I…” His voice cracks and then he can’t say a damn thing. His throat is filled with dry sand, not air.

“I will rip your heart out, you—!” Regina is pushing past Emma, but with one quick flick of his wrist, and his mom is lying on the ground, not able to move or get up.

Emma reacts on instinct, it’s too hectic to be planned. She lunges for him, but he ducks, catches her arm mid-air and throws her away.

David doesn’t even come that close and Snow’s arrow crumbles to dust in front of his face, before she’s fixed to the ground as well.

Hook and Tinkerbell get pushed back against a tree, ropes sneaking around them.

Peter shivers and gives Henry a panicked look, but the Shadow doesn’t bother care about him, he is too weak to be a threat.

“Your heart, Henry.” He stalks closer, stretching his free hand out. “Give me your heart. You have to do it willingly or it won’t work.”

“No!” Emma and Regina yell at the same time.

“And if I don’t?”

The Shadow doesn’t answer, he merely points the gun at Hook, pulls the trigger and misses his head by just a few inches.

Henry’s knees shake and he knows that he’s so close to cry. The gunshot rings in his ears.

“Was that clear enough for you, Henry?”

Henry knits his forehead. “But why? What is so special about my heart?”

“It’s the last missing ingredient, Henry. Every curse has a price.”

“Curse?”

“Oh, yes,” the Shadow smiles and his angry red eyes glow in the morning air. His smile looks like a grimace. “It’s time to get my own body back.”


	13. Chapter 13

Emma struggles against her invisible restraints, while Regina manages to sit up and break the silence with a disgusted sneer. “It is true, then,” she says, her voice filled with venom.

Emma wonders, how the Regina who can hold her pinkie and give Henry soft smiles, can sound like _that_. “The tales about the disembodied shadow are all true.”

The Shadow tilts his head, the gun still in his hand. “I feel honored that you already heard about me, your Majesty.”

That seems to throw Regina off track. “How do you…?”

“Know that you are the Evil Queen? I know everything,” he informs her with a shrug. “And out of all of you, you disappoint me the most. Tell me, how does it feel to betray your own purposes?”

“Can you stop with the bullshit already?” Emma’s patience is running short and she wants to do nothing more than to snatch Henry away from that vile monster with red eyes and a human face. Is Greg still in there? But even if, what does it matter? Greg (or Owen, who cares) almost killed Regina, and after his plan failed he kidnapped Henry. “What do you want with his heart? Go, get your own back.”

“I am astonished how oafishly the Savior is. Or should I call you Swan Warrior now?” He laughs when he notices her dumbstruck expression. “Oh yes, sweet Emma, I know everything. I am Neverland. Nothing happens without my knowledge. Nothing escapes my attention. I crafted this island with my bare hands and magic. Did you really think I would let you go with the Truest Believer, just like that?”

Emma is about to ask him what the hell a truest believer is, when Hook sighs deeply, almost annoyed. “You are still looking for him, shady man?”

“Don’t call me that, pirate.”

“You are looking for him since forever. I’d say it’s time for you to find a new hobby, aye?” Hook lifts his brows and if Tinkerbell weren’t already looking at him as if he lost his sanity, Emma would be glaring at him right now.

David shakes his head, Snow is trying to sneak another arrow out of her quiver, unseen by the Shadow and prepare her bow to fire, but she can’t move her hands.

The Shadow marches towards Hook, lifting his gun.“I won’t miss your face next time. Be careful what you say.”

“This boy isn’t the Truest Believer,” Hook insists.

“Because you know everything about magic, don’t you?” the Shadow taunts and flashes him a dangerous smile.

Tink gives Hook a pleading look. They are both still pressed against the trees, the ropes keeping them trapped. “Just shut up,” she whispers to him and the Shadow loses his interest in them.

He turns around and faces Henry again. “I am still waiting for your heart, boy.” He stalks closer and closer and Emma can see how Henry swallows and blinks repeatedly. She wants to help him, to shield him, but she can’t move.

Regina is groaning in agony while trying to fight her own indiscernible manacles.

“Henry, don’t,” Emma breathes, but she can’t help him and the Shadow is so close.

The gun is still loaded and he presses the barrel against Henry’s temple. She feels the warmth leaving her body, her blood is replaced by ice water. She can’t move, she can’t look at this but at the same time she can’t avert her gaze.

“Why?” Henry whispers close to tears, not looking at her or Regina. His eyes are glued to the Shadow’s red ones. “Why do you need my heart?”

“I need my body back,” the Shadow repeats his words from earlier and suddenly the barrel stops touching Henry’s head and Emma can breathe again.

She hears the deep exhale from Snow’s direction.

Regina just stares and her face looks like a mask of indifference, but her eyes. Her eyes are burning with murderous lust and it’s terrifying to witness.

“What…happened?” Oh, Henry. He’s trying to buy them time. To buy her and her magic time.

The Shadow lowers himself to Henry’s eye level, crouching down. “I underestimated the price of my magic. I wanted to be powerful, to be immortal. I wanted so much and I ended up with nothing. My body crumbled to dust and only my shadow survived. Surely you agree that this is no real life, don’t you?”

“I guess I…I do,” Henry stammers.

Emma glances at Regina, not sure what she’s looking for.

The former queen is looking at her. “Use your magic,” she mouths and Emma closes her eyes. Come on, magic, she thinks, angry with herself how long this is taking. Why is her magic not there when she needs it? She thinks about her fight against the Lost Boys, but it’s not really helping.

“I had a curse written, once. I hoped that getting to the Land Without Magic would give me my body back,” the Shadow continues to explain, getting to his feet and looking at everyone. His eyes examine Peter’s pale face. He’s passed out.

Regina gives him an incredulous look. “What…curse?”

The Shadow seems oddly happy about the fact that Regina asked this particular question. His red eyes glow with amusement. “Oh, the one my son stole from me and manipulated you into casting it,” he clarifies in a nonchalant way.

Oh god. This is a joke, right? 

“You are…Rumpelstiltskin’s father?” Regina’s voice is a deep, throaty whisper.

“I am actually disappointed that my son isn’t here,” the Shadow nods, looking at Regina with a smirk. “But maybe it’s for the better, since Baelfire died a few hours ago, right? So many sacrifices wasted for nothing. He never truly got his son back.”

Henry is searching confused Regina’s eyes and then looks to her. Oh. He doesn’t know that Neal was alive for a few more days. But in the end it didn’t change a thing, he just suffered longer.

The Shadow forces Greg’s face to smile a feline smirk, one that makes her skin itch.

Emma literally feels as if her brain went off. She just stands there, sword in her hand pointing at the ground, her shoulders slumped down. She absolutely doesn’t know what to do with this new twist in Henry’s family tree.

(Thank god, Thanksgiving isn’t a thing in the Enchanted Forest.)

“No wonder the crocodile is rotten to the core with a daddy like you,” Hook murmurs grimly, giving the Shadow a dark look.

The Shadow just giggles. “I couldn’t care less what happens to my selfish boy. He still holds a grudge that I left him for power, and look what he has done to his own son.” He adjusts his gray shirt anew, which covered in black blood and dirt.

Dear god. Somebody could’ve warned her that she’s about to enter hell.

Emma remembers that Gold said something about Belle wanting him to stay in Storybrooke. But maybe, just maybe, that imp knew about this whole thing, about the mess and thirst for power that is unfolding in front of their eyes. Of course he knew. This is his father, for fuck’s sake.

“See, I wrote that curse he stole from me. He changed a few things, added a few details—but the curse was min. It was supposed to bring me to the Land Without Magic and give me back what was once lost. But I never got the chance to cast it, because it was stolen from me and now I still don’t have my body back.” His voice is bitter and filled with hatred and his words are covered with childish defiance. “But things are going to change now. I had enough time to find another way, a better curse. One, that doesn’t require to travel to another realm and give up on my powers.”

Emma tries to get her magic to work, but she just can’t. How can be something like this real? How can this…creature be a human, more or less, and how much darkness do you have to embrace to become so careless about the lives of others? She shudders. She actually doesn’t want to know.

Henry tilts his head. “And you need my heart because I am the Truest Believer?”

“Well, that and you happen to be related to me. It’s the perfect match, Henry.” Greg’s face shows something like affection, but it’s faked and staged.

Every detail was planned, this bastard just waited for the right time to confront Henry.

Emma grits her teeth, but her magic is slowly waking up, because she can’t focus. Regina gives her puzzled looks and she can’t even shrug helplessly. So she just stands there, an awkward expression on her face while she worries her lower lip. Come on. Come on. Come on.

“And you will leave them alone, once you have my heart?”

“I promise you, I will allow them to leave the island in one piece,” the Shadow nods once, making it look like a small bow.

 _Please make it stop_.

“All of them? Peter Pan, too?”

 _Henry, stop_.

There is a pause. After a moment, the Shadow gives in. “Yes, your friend Peter Pan may leave Neverland as well.”

 _Nonononono_.

Henry makes a step forward. “What will happen with me…once you have my heart?”

“You’ll have enough time to say your goodbyes. Shouldn’t take you awfully long. Half of these people here are strangers to you, or they lied to you. You won’t miss out anything important,” the Shadow reassures him, waving with his hand that is holding the gun at them.

 _Henry_.

So close. She is so close. She just needs—

“Okay. Then take it.”

“No, you have to give it to me. These are the rules. The Truest Believer has to believe in himself and do what is the right thing to do: save his family, to be the hero he was meant to be.”

Emma’s superpower not always works the way she wants it to (except when it comes to Regina, how weird), but she can tell that the Shadow is offering Henry one giant pile of lies.

No one is going to leave the island alive.

Peter Pan is going to die.

And basically, that sneaky fucker is taking what he wants and needs.

But before she has finally managed to get rid of the unseen chains that keep her bound to the ground, Henry gives her and then Regina a last, apologetic look, before he closes his eyes and then—

Emma feels like throwing up.

“Henry, don’t!” Regina’s voice is piercing through the air, along with a shocked gasp from her parents.

Henry’s hand is in his own chest and he breathes hard, before he pulls it out again—together with his beating heart. He looks at it with wonder and bewilderment, holding out his flat palm with the heart to the Shadow.

Henry’s pure, gentle heart is glowing in a golden hue and it’s _wrong wrong wrong_.

Emma feels a surge of magic spiraling upwards in her chest and then she’s suddenly free and her magic transports her, where the Shadow is.

Greg’s body is about to disappear in a black cloud of magic, but she gets to hold his arm and disappears with him. They reappear on top of a tree, the wind playing with Emma’s hair and making it hard to keep the balance. Emma’s fingers are still closed around the arm that is holding Henry’s heart.

The Shadow points with the gun between her eyes, his red eyes mustering her with something like admiration. “How brave of you to come after me, Savior.”

“Give me the heart back or so help me god,” Emma hisses, adding more force to her grip.“You told my son nothing but bullshit, you don’t deserve to hold his heart for even one second.”

The Shadow laughs in her face, pressing the barrel of Greg's gun against her forehead. Its burning coldness makes Emma shiver. He could kill her. But she just can’t give up now, give up on Henry. She just _can’t_.

“Henry exists because of my curse. His heart belongs to me since the day the curse was stolen from me and cast. I had a vision once, Emma Swan. I had a vision and I saw his face. I knew he would exist some day. And I did everything to ensure that he would find his way into my world.” He uses his entrapped hand to yank her forward on the thick branch they are standing on, his gun pressing painfully hard into her skin of her jaw.

She just glares at him.

“You think you are doing something noble, aren’t you? Going after me, the feared demon of this realm. But we both know what this is about, hm?”

“I am not interested in your opinion, you sick piece of shit, now give me Henry’s heart back.”

“You think they love you, don’t you? But they don’t. They just love the idea of you, being the Savior that fixes their problems, that fixes them.”

Emma swallows and tries to push him away, but she can feel his breath on her cheeks, the redness of his eyes burning with sadistic joy. “You are an interesting opponent, Emma Swan. Find me in my castle. Find me and die as the martyr you tell yourself to be. Because that would increase your worth, wouldn’t? The ugly duckling turning out to be a swan and yet it never found a way to get over its painful past,” he whispers darkly, chuckling at her wide eyes.

“You have no right—”

“Find me when the sky turn red, Emma Swan,” the Shadow says, his words touching her lips.

His thumb that was holding the gun until now touches her chin and she has to close her eyes once images force their way into her mind. Images of a black castle, ruins of a long forgotten building that is surrounded by lava. It’s placed in the middle of a volcano, a long slim bridge is the only way to reach the castle.

When she opens her eyes she’s standing on the ground, somewhere in the middle of the jungle with a racing heart and a sword in her hand. Emma has no idea where she is, nor does she know how to find a way back to Pan’s camp, back to Henry and the others. Her parents. Regina.

She lets out a frustrated scream. She feels hopeless. For so long she had this drive, the confidence to find Henry and they did find him. But now? Now his heart is gone and she has to fight for it against a being that draws joy from torturing and hurting others.

“Emma?”

She swirls around and all of a sudden Regina is there, and she is drawn into a tight embrace. “How…?”

She feels a kiss on her neck. “I…was worried  about you and then…my magic brought me here,” Regina tells her breathlessly and she pulls back a little to look in her dark eyes. Dark eyes that are filled with dread and relief and anger all at once. “It’s back. Slowly, but it’s there.”

“Good,” she whispers and leans her forehead against Regina’s. “I couldn’t get Henry’s heart back. Yet,” she quickly adds, enjoying Regina’s warmth. “But I will get it back.”

“I wish I could tell you to stay, but…” Regina lifts her head and looks at her. “I can’t.”

She smiles softly. “I wouldn’t listen to you anyway,” Emma chuckles and her mind goes back to simpler times, when she was just a sheriff in a small town, fighting with the mayor of that town over paperwork and trivial stuff. She misses these times. She misses the simplicity.

Regina rolls with her eyes. “I almost forgot who I am talking to.”

There is a pause between them of so many unsaid words, so many loaded truths that linger between them and yet, they don’t say them out loud. “You should go back to them. To Henry,” Emma finally murmurs, blinking threatening tears away.

Regina sighs, her misery visible in the way her corners of her mouth turn down. “Before we part, you should take this with you.” She clears her throat when she says this and then she pulls the zipper of her duffel bag open to retrieve Pandora’s box out of it.

 _Wherever you are going, the shadows will follow you. You better be prepared when the time is right_. Those were Rumpel’s words, Emma remembers them. “He knew,” she says in a dull tone. “Of course.”

“His precious Belle likes to tell herself that she did change him, but he is still that scheming little imp that just happened to settle down,” Regina shrugs and hands her the tiny box. “Lucky for us, he is on our side this time.”

Emma can’t help but smile. “And how do I use this…thing?”

Regina gives her a look as if she missed something so blatantly obvious that it’s a shame that she bothered to ask in the first place. “Magic, Miss Swan. The beginning and end of all things.”

“That sounded poetic.”

“Some of us can be eloquent when they wish to be.” Did this woman really wink at her?

“Very funny. I am about to go into a volcano and you joke about the lack of my…whatever?”

Regina’s eyes go wide at her words. “Volcano?” she repeats with a cracking voice. “You are going to—!”

“Shh, no. There is a ruin of an old castle. He’s waiting there,” Emma says, peeking discretely at the sky. It’s still blue. “I will get his heart back and bring it to you, no matter what. And if I have to use my last breath to do so,” she vows, meaning every word of it.

Regina’s forehead knits and she looks like she is about to cry. Her lower lip trembles and she takes a few shaking breaths, before breaking the silence between them. “Don’t you dare to die.” Her voice is thick with emotion. Emma smiles fondly at her, because Regina.

She kisses her, the box between them and digging uncomfortable in her hip bone, a constant reminder of what she has to do. What she might lose. What she has to win.

The kiss is desperate and too hasty, but she honestly doesn’t care. Not when she feels Regina’s tongue touching her lower lip, sliding against the tip of her tongue. She wants to tell her so much, confess so many things, but maybe Regina already knows them. Feels them. The kiss breaks at some point, but their lips are still almost touching.

“Pretend to be nice to my parents,” Emma tells her, knowing that it would be pointless to ask her to be genuinely nice them.

Regina smiles at the sentiment.“You can make sure I behave when you come back.”

Emma wants to promise her that everything will be good, but she can’t say that. She feels no guilt in promising her to return with Henry’s heart, because she will go through hell if it means to save her son. Literally. Still, she doesn’t know in which state she’ll be should she be able to truly defeat the Shadow, whose magic is stronger than hers.

They kiss again, slow and softly and then Emma takes a step back, straightening her back and looking up again. The sky is slowly fading into a blood red color. Time to leave.

“I am sorry that I hurt your apple tree,” Emma says, meaning something completely different, but she can’t say it.

“Wait,” Regina seems to remember something, invading her personal space again. “Are you sure that no one can take your heart?”

“The Queen of Hearts tried and she couldn’t get it out, so yeah, I am pretty sure I am good.”

“But he’s stronger than my mother.”

“ _The Queen of Hearts_ , Regina!”

“I just need to…” She bites her lower lip. “If he would take your heart, too, Emma…if he could take it and control you to…” she swallows and doesn’t finish her sentence.

Emma doesn’t get where this fear is coming from, but something tells her that it’s not the right moment to ask her this. So she just shrugs with her shoulders. “You can check, if you want to make sure that—oh, okay,” she gasps when she feels Regina’s hand in her chest. Jesus effin’ Christ. “Not how I imagined you to put your fingers in me the first time,” she mutters under her breath and blushes slightly.

Regina hesitates and uses the time to give her long look.

“You just had to,” she sighs.

“Yeah. Well see? You obviously can’t take my—oh.”

Her heart is staring at her in Regina’s hand and it feels not real, because this is her heart. It’s red and pulsates in her heartbeat. She feels hollow and strange. Incomplete.

Regina caresses her heart lightly with her other hand. “There was not even a whit of resistance,” she ponders with awe in her voice. Then she meets Emma’s gaze.

“Can I…?”

Emma nods earnestly.“It belongs to you, anyway,” she says and cringes.

Regina just blinks.

“I don’t know how Will Turner could say something like that with a straight face,” she mumbles awkwardly and blushes again. Ugh, she hates to feel like this, like a love sick teenager.

“Who?”

“Never mind,” she waves her off, pointing at her heart. “Keep it. You know, just to be sure that—stop grinning at me like that.”

Regina’s smirk just widens. “I will protect it with my life, you have my word.”

“I don’t think it’s worth this much,” she breathes nervously, because this is going somewhere she doesn’t want to go yet. She doesn’t want it to be one of these goodbyes. She doesn’t want it to be terminal.

“It’s worth everything.”

Emma closes her eyes. And feels the pounding of her heart even though it’s outside of her body.

Regina makes a noise of amazement. “I can feel your…how can this make you so happy?”

“It just does,” she mumbles. Emma feels naked and not in the way she wants to feel naked. “I have really to go,” she sighs, looking at the deep red sky. It’s a scary sight. "I will find—"

"Finish this sentence, and I will tell your mother we had sex against a tree," Regina glares at her, nostrils flaring and all.

Emma gulps. That escalated quickly, she thinks, too stunned to reply something. _This woman._

“And don’t forget: magic is emotion. I told you that relying on happiness to draw great strength is difficult, but you are the product of True Love and if you can’t wield this kind of magic than I don’t know who will.”

“That sounds like a compliment.”

“My first student turned out to be a pleasant surprise,” Regina agrees and a soft smile is playing around her lips. “Don’t provoke him. Use his arrogance against him. You should empty your backpack and put the box in there. He mustn’t see the box before the time is right,” Regina says forcefully. “And don’t fall into lava,” she adds or good measure. She touches Emma’s cheek, puts the heart in the inner pocket of her blazers and touches it with her fingers from the outside through the fabric. Somehow, it tingles in her chest.

Emma bows her head. “Tell Henry that I love him and tell my parents that I am sorry and—”

“You tell them that,” Regina interrupts her and waves with her hands. The purple cloud appears slowly and eventually it swallows her and then she’s alone again.

#

Her gaze drifts to the volcano after she emptied her backpack and placed Pandora's box there, just like Regina told her to do.

She thinks about the implanted images in her head and wills her magic to bring her there. She closes her eyes to be able to focus better on her task at hand and then she feels herself disappear and then she finds herself on top of an active volcano, the heat of the liquid lava slapping her in the face.

There, swimming on a plateau in the lava sea, are the black ruins of a huge, once majestic castle. There is a golden glow coming from the highest (and the last intact) tower, a column of red light reaching for the sky. It has to be coming from Henry’s heart, Emma concludes.

“Holy fucking shit,” she croaks.

So this is what hell looks like.


	14. Chapter 14

Henry is sitting next Peter, feeling a bit weak himself, and watches how Tink’s hands place a wet cloth on his forehead. His friend is awake again, his face is still covered in sweat and he looks even worse than before the Shadow’s visit. The Shadow has his heart.

He swallows and focuses on Tink’s words. “You shouldn’t walk. Hook can carry you.”

“Excuse you, Milady, but I happen to just have one hand,” Hook huffs back and waves with his hook that flashes in the pale sunlight. Something weird is going on, though, because it looks like the sun is already getting ready to disappear again, which can’t be true. The sky is slowly turning red.

David steps between Hook and Tink, his face is strained and tired. “Alright, enough. I can carry him,” he offers and smiles at Peter and Henry. “No big deal.”

Henry looks around. His mom and Emma are still not back. He knows that Emma is tough and won’t give in as fast as he did. He lowers his gaze, ashamed about his own weakness. The Shadow played him, toyed with his wish to save his family and friends from further harm.

He wipes his tears away and feels a warm hand on his tense back.

“They will come back,” Snow tells him quietly, kissing his cheek. “I am sure Regina went to save Emma,” she says and he can hear the frown in her exhausted voice.

He can relate to her confusion. His mom didn’t say a word, she simply disappeared in a purple cloud of magic, just a few moments after Emma vanished with the Shadow in his black cloud.

He hopes they are alright.

He looks at Snow, who crouched down next to his log. “It’s my fault,” he whispers. “They are gone, because I gave him my heart.”

“You had no real choice, buddy,” David tells him, before Snow can shake off her wave of pity and find an answer. It’s still there in her gaze when he looks back at her.

“The Shadow could’ve killed us but he didn’t, mate. You should be happy about that, aye?” Hook tries to lift his spirits and gives him a small, crooked smile.

“Stop being so awfully dense, Hook,” Tink exhales annoyed. “Please.”

Peter winks at him. “Don’t worry, they were like this all the time,” he snickers and earns a glare from Tink. “What? Just stating the truth here, Tink.”

“No one asked you to.”

Henry feels himself slowly relaxing and then he hears nearing footsteps. He turns around on his log and looks past Snow, who gets to her feet to face the intruder. It’s his mom. Alone. Holding something she has hidden in the inner pocket of her blazer.

“Where is Emma?” Snow’s voice wavers when she asks this. David is behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, giving his mom a hard look.

She looks…lost and so, so sad.

He feels his breath hitch and if he still had his heart in his chest it would have skipped a beat or two right now. “No,” he whispers, but his mom shakes her head.

“Emma is alive. She just had to…” Regina clears her throat. “She will come back,” she finally offers and sighs deeply.

“What are you talking about?” Snow walks over to her, glaring at her. “Where is my daughter? Regina, I swear, I will cut every limb off of you if you did something—!”

“She went to get Henry’s heart back, you blundering idiot!” his mom shouts back, taking a deep breath and unclenching her fists. She brushes past a speechless Snow and walks over to Peter, pushing Tink aside.

Henry gets to his feet. “Mom…”

“Regina, you can’t…”

“Oh, I am sorry, Tinkerbell. Should I wait until you’re finished with smothering this boy and reading him his bedtime stories?” Regina interrupts the fairy, her voice hard and unrelenting.

“What is a bedtime story?” Peter asks in a small voice, looking at Henry for some advice.

Regina makes a heartbroken face. “Oh lord, what in the name of…” She rubs her face and looks at the sky. It’s blood red.

“My apologies, Peter. But I need to know if there is a way to get to Hook’s ship.”

“Depends where it’s located,” Peter says, trying to sit up, but Tink’s hand and simple shake with her head stops him. “Is it near Mermaid’s Lagoon?”

Hook makes a dark face. “Aye,” he grunts, lifting proudly his chin.

Peter smiles brightly at Regina, his right brow almost touching his hairline. “Then I have good news, your Majesty: there is secret tunnel not far from here. It leads directly to that place. I used it numerous time to go on board of Hook’s lovely little ship to steal some trinkets.”

“My enchanted telescope and loaded pistol weren’t _trinkets_ ,” Hook hisses.

His mom chuckles softly. “Very well. Can you we use it?”

“Wait, what about Emma?” David interjects, clearly not pleased by the idea to leave Emma behind, wherever she is.

Henry feels the same, but he believes in her. She will get his heart back and defeat the evil of this island. She will save the Indian tribe his moms told him about. She will save them all. Emma is the Savior.

Regina looks at him, while she answers David’s questions. “She promised to bring Henry’s heart back. I think it’s wise to wait on the ship for her return, her magic will know where we are,” she says, finally looking at David.

Snow closes her eyes. “How can we trust your word—”

“We didn’t stay at the Indian tribe because of Emma. And I wasn’t sea sick on Hook’s ship,” Regina says and Henry is confused. He obviously missed a lot conversations. “I had no magic and it made me…sick. Emma said, it was the fault of my withdrawal symptoms. She took care of me,” she admits and suddenly the missing pieces click in Henry’s head.

He already wondered why his moms were getting along so well. That’s why.

They became friends, or something like that.

Snow wets her lips, pondering over Regina’s words. “Fine, I believe you. And I am sorry for doubting you,” she sighs, much to David’s surprise.

His mom smiles thinly. “You better be.”

#

Emma finds some narrow staircase leading down to the slim bridge, connecting the stairs with the castle. She feels like Frodo, the only difference is that she is walking the stairs down, not climbing them up. Her sword is resting in its scabbard, while she repeats Regina’s words over and over again under her breath: “ _Don’t fall into lava_.”

It’s so fucking hot, she can feel the sweat running down between her shoulder blades. Her jeans seem to be made out of fucking sand paper, galling her skin of her thighs. He gray top clings to her body like a second skin. At least her hair doesn’t bother her much and she sends a grateful shout out to Pocahontas.

The castle flickers in the distance, the heat makes her feel as if she’s breathing fire. For once, she wishes to be a dragon. Or something like that friend of Regina’s was able to do, to transform into one. She reaches the end of the stairs and wonders, how she’s even able to breathe at all. She is sure there are some toxic gases in the air when a volcano is active.

Magic, she thinks. It’s the explanation and answer to everything as of late.

She takes a deep breath. Her childhood flashes in front of her inner eye, one of her rare happy moments; in one foster home she had the chance to play on a _GameBoy Color_ , and there was this game called _Supermario_. She remembers vividly this one endboss level, where she had to fight against a dinosaur or whatever in a dark castle, filled and surrounded by lava.

She laughs briefly about the sheer irony here. Goddammit.

She takes the hilt of her sword in her hand and takes it out of the scabbard. She almost runs over the bridge, because a part of her thought it to be funny to imagine how the bridge would start to collapse underneath her boots, brick after brick.

She doesn’t look back once she reaches the black front door. There are ornaments on it, but frankly, she doesn’t care. There could be stickers of rainbows and unicorns on it and she wouldn’t bat an eye. (She just might’ve questioned the Shadows taste for doors.)She pulls them open with both hands, cursing under her breath. 

The entrance of the half destroyed caslte is huge and to Emma’s great surprise, the air is pleasantly cool here. She takes a deep breath and sighs. Only the red-yellow light from the lava outside is illuminating the grand staircase leading up to the next floor. He has to be here, right?

“I wondered if you would come, dearest Emma,” the Shadows voice breaks the silence and in the shadow of the staircase are two red eyes glowing, watching her expectantly. “But then again, why shouldn’t you? Facing defeat and loss is a matter of great complications, while the own death in the name of some noble deed is so much easier to accept.” He pushes himself of the wall and he is no longer holding Greg’s gun in his hand, but a sword.

Emma gets into position. “I am glad you already accepted your fate, bastard. Makes it easier to kill you,” she smiles at him, feeling her magic bubbling up within her.

“We’ll see about that,” he says and if it weren’t for her magic, she wouldn’t have been able to see his inhumanly fast somersault and defend his first blow with his blade.

Magic, she thinks with a smile.

#

They are walking alongside the river. David carries Peter, while Snow is holding his backpack and sword in her hands. Hook and Tink are behind them, arguing about something and he is walking next to his mom, her arm around his shoulders.

“Okay, you have to give me a moment, it’s been a while since I used that tunnel,” Peter coughs, while David puts him down to catch his breath and Hook rolls with his eyes.

“That boy is useless, just like—”

“Your flask, now be quiet,” Tink finishesimpatiently his sentence and looks to Regina. “Hey, are you okay?”

Henry gives his mom a worried look, noticing just now that her arm is no longer resting on his shoulders.

She is staring at the river and then at her hands. Without giving Tink any sort of answer she makes a waving gesture with her hands and lets some liters of water float in front of their eyes. Another flick with her wrist and the water seems to flatten and freeze into a sheet of ice. She breathes at it and it becomes opaque.

“What are you doing?” David asks cinfused.

“Just…taking a look at something,” Regina mumbles, pressing her flat palms against the ice and she closes her eyes, furrowing her brows. “Don’t test my patience, magic,” she hisses and steps back, watching how the ice turns dark and starts to show images of fire or…no, lava. It’s zooming in to a dark castle, and before Henry knows what is happening, the whole group (except a protesting Peter) is gathered in front of that…thing.

“What are we looking at, Regina?” Snow asks breathlessly.

“Emma,” is the short, yet clear answer. The picture changes again and suddenly they are seeing Emma and the Shadow, but it’s hard to focus on them, because they are moving so fast around each other, while their swords crash together, but they can’t hear it, just watch. Emma is tiptoeing back, doing backflips, while the Shadow is trying to either hit her legs or head. It looks like a cruel, yet strangely beautiful dance and Henry can’t remember to have seen Emma move this fluently, almost graceful.

“Somebody tell me that Swan is using magic to move like this,” Hook whispers disbelievingly.

No one answers him.

Henry peeks at his mom and notices the clear concern and care in her eyes and he has to look away, because he doesn’t understand any of this, at all. Instead, he watches Emma again and her movements grow harder, angrier. Sometimes she simply disappears and reappears behind the Shadow, who has barely enough time to duck and then—

“Hey, what happened?” David and Hook protest at the same time, looking at Regina.

His mom just shakes her head, allowing the ice to melt in front of them and fall back into the flowing river. “I am not letting Henry see how his other mother lost control over her magic and is about to slaughter that piece of…” She shakes her head again. “We should go. Peter? Do you remember the way?”

“Yes, however, I am contemplating if I should withhold this information, since I wasn’t allowed to see the Savior in action. Or Hook’s dumb face while he saw her in action.”

“You little—!”

“Hook, he is still a child. What is your excuse?” Regina giving him an annoyed look.

Tink looks at his mom as if she’s about to hug her. Weird.

David lifts Peter in his arms again, while Snow worries her lower lip and stares at the water in front of her.

“She’ll be fine, right?” She turns to Regina and his mom doesn’t say anything condescending to her this time.

She merely nods. “She promised me she would,” she whispers and is about to follow David, Hook and Tink, when Snow thinks about her words and gasps, once she come to a conclusion, whatever that might be.

Henry is deeply confused.

So is David. “Snow, what is wrong?”

His mom looks at Snow and waits for something, but it takes several deep intakes of oxygen for Snow to get a word out.

“Forgive me, but this sounded just wrong in my head. You didn’t mean to imply anything by that, did you?” She smiles nervously and it makes Henry uncomfortable.

What the heck are they talking about?

Regina’s hand wanders to her blazer again. “Imply what, Snow?” Her voice lost her usual bite whenever she talks to her former nemesis. Because they are on the same side again, right?

“It sounded like…she promised you more than this, and this is not the case, right? Since you are, like, her step-grandmother.”

Henry knits his brows in confusion. God, why are grown ups always talking in riddles and why is it suddenly important that Regina used to be Snow’s step-mom? Did he miss a heartwarming reunion between the two of them?

Regina glowers at her. “I stopped being your step-mother the moment your father died, Snow. And while we’re at it, I was too young to be your step-mother in the first place.”

Snow’s face is alarmingly white. “Oh my god, this is some sick joke of yours, it has to be,” she stammers.

“What is going on?” David demands to know, Peter looks mildly concerned about the whole scene in his arms.

Hook shrugs his shoulders next to him. “Lost the thread at the step-mother thing,” he says, taking a sip out of his flask. (Is this thing glued to his hand?)

Henry glances at his mom, who is brooding over something. Something big and complicated. “Mom?”

“What did you ask me the night I cast the curse, Snow?” she asks her out of the blue, her voice filled with too many emotions to decipher. Henry gives up after sadness and remorse.

Snow blinks and clears her throat. “Why you were doing this,” she answers dutifully, her voice almost not there.

“And what did I tell you?”

“That this was your happy ending.”

Regina nods, smiling a watery smile. “And it found me, Snow. It found me in that ugly yellow car of hers, dressed in her horrendous red leather jacket and smiling that dopey smile, because that’s what you imbecile Charming’s do, you find your happy endings, just like that. In the woods or…with the help of a ten year old son.”

Henry tilts his head. What is going on?

David seems to get it. “What the…”

“Regina, what on earth do you think are you doing?” Snow throws the words with force in his mom’s direction.

“I will know if something happens to Emma,” Regina says, not answering the question.

This whole conversation doesn’t make sense and seems to be pointless. Henry grows more and more frustrated with them.

“Because you can use your magic to spy at her like you just did?” Snow is so close to screech.

Regina’s hand disappears in the inner pocket of her blazer and retrieves a—

Oh.

 _Oh_. Suddenly everything makes perfectly sense. _You find your happy endings, just like that. In the woods or…with the help of a ten year old son_. Henry is filled with a sense of pride.

That’s… an unexpected turn of events.

Henry blinks and watches how Snow is close to faint. It’s not a very pretty sight and only Regina seems to enjoy it a little bit.

“You did hurt her, you lying, evil—!”

“Oh, stop it, Prince Shepherd. I took her heart to protect her. Would you rather see your daughter’s heart in the claws of that Shadow?”

David’s lips form a thin line.

Regina huffs at that. “Thought as much.” She gazes down at the heart in her hand and puts it carefully back into her pocket, a frown on her face. “Let’s go. Emma just told the Shadow that he screams like a little scared girl and I don’t want to see that volcano erupt,” she sighs, disappointment resounding in her words. “That idiot,” she adds softly and Henry notes that his mom doesn’t mean it as an insult, more like a fond pet name.

Oh.

#

Her fist collides with the Shadow’s jaw and he stumbles back, yelping and holding his chin.

Emma scoffs at him. “You scream like a little girl, Shadow. Sure you are a man?” She swings her sword and feels so light, so strong. Nothing can touch her, she’s too fast for the Shadow. Beads of sweat are running down her whole body, but the magic singing in her veins makes her feel wonderful. It's like a drug.

She smiles at him, watching him how he picks his sword up. They are standing on a balcony—or what is left of it—and she turns a somersault, down through a hole in the roof to a room that is filled with destroyed stairs and high, empty bookshelves. A former library.

The Shadow follows her suit and then their swords clash together again, their dance begins anew.

Emma ducks, jumps aside and dives in the last second to escape the Shadow’s deathly blows. It’s exciting to know that she can keep up with him.

Frustration is coloring the Shadow’s hard features in Greg’s sweaty face. “You will go down with me, child,” he drawls and lunges forward. Emma’s magic flares up and she is suddenly behind him, her sword aiming at his neck. He has barely the time to block her stroke. He swirls around, she climbs some stairs, jumps on the remnants of a stone banister and is about to laugh at him, when she miscalculates the distance of him and his blade.

At first she just notices how the tip of his sword cuts through the sinews and muscles of her left knee, closely followed by a sharp, all-consuming pain that bolts through her body like nothing else before.

She tumbles down with choked scream, whimpering when her body hits the hard ground. Her left hand immediately touches the wound and _oh god oh god there is so much blood_.

The Shadow is looming above her, his red eyes beam with satisfaction. She feels his magic and how it immobilizes her.

 _Henry’s heart, no no no no_. Don't panic, she tells herself, the pain clouding her mind.

“Now it’s my turn to make you scream, Emma Swan.”

The tip of his sword deepens the wound, cutting through the muscles of her calf.

She does scream until her throat is raw.

#

They just entered the narrow tunnel, following Hook’s torch through the darkness, when his mom has to lean against the wall, pressing her temple against the cool surface of the wall.

“Regina?” Snow is right there, looking with a mix of concern and panic to Regina.

His mom swallows. “Nothing, I just thought—” She closes her eyes and makes a face as if something was hurting her.

Or Emma.

Oh no. “Mom? What’s wrong? Mom!”

She opens her red rimmed eyes, taking a deep breath. “She’ll be fine, she promised,” she mutters with agony in her voice.

“Regina, stop being so—!”

“He hurt her, okay? Are you happy now? Good god, I was trying to spare you the pain, but please, be my guest if you want to torture yourself,” Regina spits, her voice raw and cruel.

“She’s my daughter and I didn’t have the chance to say goodbye! So forgive me if I want to know what is happening to her!”

Henry blinks against the tears. “Is she dying?”

Regina pushes herself off the wall and breathes a few times in and out, touching Emma’s heart. “She is in pain, but she hasn’t lost consciousness.” The energy, the anger, everything seems to leave her and she rubs her face.

“Mom?” He is close enough to hug her. His tired and weakened body welcomes the break. He feels as if something is taking his energy, his eyes are burning with exhaustion.

His mom is too busy with her own misery and guilt to notice this, though. “I took her heart to save her, because I thought this way she couldn’t die, because there wouldn’t be a heart left to crush, but it escaped my mind to think about the fact that he might let her bleed to—” She stops herself right in time, looking at Henry with an apologizing look.

He still can hear the word _death_ ringing in his ears.

“We can’t take another break,” Peter says impatiently. “We’re almost there, come on!”

Henry holds his mom’s hand while they’re walking and she squeezes back.

#

“I have deep respect for you, Savior,” the Shadow tells her, getting on his knees on her right sight and gazing at her with a victorious glint in his eyes. “You were by far the most exciting challenge I had in a long, long time.”

“Go and fuck yourself,” she advices him with a tormented hiss. Her injured leg is soaked with blood and it hurts like nothing else she’s ever felt before. It’s even worse than giving for 8 hours birth to a boy.

“For a second there I thought you could kill me. But then again, you would just kill that foolish boy who signed a contract with his blood that allowed me to control him even realms away from here,” he continues to say, cleaning his sword with his already grime-stained sweater.

Her left hand is sneaking underneath her back, working slowly the zipper open to retrieve Pandora’s box, while she pretends to feel another wave of pain and fakes a whimper. He won’t see that one coming, she thinks with a grim face and waits for his next taunting words when she finally gets a hold of the cold, small box.

He just smiles at her, not noticing her moving hand. “Don’t worry, your death will be quick and only for a brief moment unbearably painful.” The air is filled with sardonic laughter.

And then his hand is in her chest, grasping at her heart that isn’t there.

She pulls her hand out, concentrates on the box and pushes as much magic in there as she can muster in her current condition. She feels dizzy while doing so, the pain gets more intense and she grits her teeth to keep herself from screaming or biting her tongue off.

The red stone on top of the box glows brightly, until it turns white and she can see the Shadow’s stunned face, before he pulls his heart back and tries to run. But it’s too late. The stone literally sucks the dark, now disembodied shadow out of Greg Mendell’s body and entraps it within its walls. The stone goes out and is now black like an onyx.

Greg’s body falls forward and lies on the ground.

Dead.

#

She feels like crying when she gazes at the stairs. The lord help her, but she has to get to that tower, to Henry’s heart.

And she’s running out of time, because obviously that fucking castle was kept safe against the heat of the lava outside by the Shadow’s dark magic. But with him gone now, the remnants of the castle started to sink.

Fucking perfect.

She barely managed to get herself out of the library, using her arms to move forward. She’s too weak to magic herself up to the tower, and also, she doesn’t know how that place looks like.The Shadow didn’t implant her images of that place, of course.

Enough. She has to do it, there is no other way.

She pulls herself up, using the brick wall as her support, while the whole building is moving downwards. How much time has she left? She doesn’t know. Jumping on one leg is faster and does the job, even though every movement causes her torn up leg to scream with burning pain.

Out of breath and ready to collapse and never wake up again, she reaches the top of the tower and there it is. Henry’s heart is on a pedestal, sparks of magic are flying around.

The air is brimming with magic and energy and it’s enough to fuel Emma’s own magic.

With a few last jumps she is there, reaching for Henry’s floating heart, that is still the source of that pillar of light shooting to the blood red sky.

The building is sinking faster now, a noticeable imbalance is giving her a hard time to keep standing on her one leg. The whole thing is askew now and she needs to hurry.

She takes Henry’s heart and it burns her hand, electricity running through her arm, but she doesn’t care about the additional pain.

Fuck it. Pain will pass.

The heat is coming closer and she can see from the broken window, that it’s in fact the lava that is coming closer. She closes her eyes, concentrates on her magic and then focuses on her wish to find her parents, Henry and Regina.

She smiles when she can feel a cloud of magic swallowing her whole, before the ground underneath her is flooded by lava.

#

Everyone is on board, everyone, but his mom and him. He leans against her, because he feels too weak to stand on his own.

His mom doesn’t say anything, she just keeps looking at the volcano. The sky is blue again. But Emma is still not back. “She’ll come,” Regina tells him, kissing his forehead.

There is a flash of white light between the trees that are nearby the beach.

“Go to you grandparents, Henry. I don’t know how she…I mean, she’s hurt, there is maybe blood or…”

“I get it,” he says softly, bracing himself for the walk. He feels so old, but the colorful language the reaches them from the woods makes him smile.

Regina is already hurrying towards it.

#

“This fucking jungle can go and burn in hell,” Emma curses, when she lands on a stone, trips and falls against a tree trunk.

At least, she can use the tree to lean against it.

She made it. She can see the ship in the distance. And Regina jogging in her direction.

She smiles tiredly at Regina, every muscle of her body hurts and don’t get her started on her fucking leg that looks so awful that even she can’t look at it.

“It’s okay, shh, it’s okay. You are alive. And you have Henry’s heart, I see,” she hears Regina’s whisper in her ear. Her vision is blurring and there is _pain pain pain_.

“Promised it,” she mumbles against Regina’s neck.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Can’t walk,” she sighs.

Regina seems to have a real look at her injury just now, according to her shocked gasp. “Oh my god. Emma, oh my—no, it’s okay, don’t move I just…okay, I got you,”

Emma is too tired, feeling too much pain and agony to really process that Regina is carrying her on her arms.

Magic, she thinks, feeling like she’s about to pass out.

“You smell as if you had a tea party with a dragon,” Regina attempts to joke, obviously trying to light the mood.

Emma blinks and uses the last bit of consciousness she has to crack one last pun. “More like, I almost ended up as a roasted swan.”

Regina stops walking, almost drops her and mumbles something about “fucking Rumpel and his visions” before Emma feels the soft rocking of being carried away again.

The last thing she hears is Regina’s soft, amused laugh.


	15. epilogue - six months later

Emma closes softly the door to her bedroom and limps through the dark hallway. Her leg is killing her and she won’t get any sleep, so she walks the stairs down until she reaches the living room.

She smiles when she sees the empty bowl of chips and the empty glass of soda that Peter has left behind after he stopped watching his stupid sitcoms. Since that boy stumbled across the world of TV shows there was no stopping him.

Regina is going to kill him when she discovers the mess.

She plops down in Regina’s armchair and glances at the clock on the DVD Player. 2:34 am. She sighs and listens to the silence of the white mansion she now calls her home. Her parents still refuse to call it “her home” they simply stick to the expression “Regina’s house” or “Henry’s home”. She doesn’t care. She will leave that house as a corpse and not a day before.

Which, you know, could happen any day now, because Regina has still a hard time to understand how messy a person really can get and tends to get loud when she finds another pair of shoes somewhere they don't belong.

Good thing that the former Evil Queen is usually too lazy to climb the stairs to attic, where Peter’s big untidy room with his own bathroom lies. There are clothes and books and empty bags of chips everywhere. (He has a thing for junk food.)

Emma sometimes puts herself and her broken leg through the strain to get to his room and play a round Mario Kart with him, usually together with Henry who keeps beating them, because that little shit had the longest time to practice. At times it makes her laugh that she is now also kinda raising Peter Pan, the boy that never wanted to grow up.

“Can’t sleep?”

Emma jumps in her seat and stares at Regina, who chuckles. “If you want to get rid of me, there are easier ways than startling me to death,” she huffs, trying to calm her heart down.

Regina laughs softly and sits down on the couch, next to her and notices the dishes Peter left behind. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s too early to have murderous thoughts, isn’t it?”

“Don’t look at me, I don’t have murderous thoughts,” she says, putting her bad leg in Regina’s lap and moans quietly when Regina’s hands start to carefully massage the aching spots through her long pants. (She stopped wearing shorts since she saw the ugly scars on her leg for the first time. Regina is the only person—next to Doctor Whale—who saw her scars.)

“Fair enough.” They gaze at each other in the darkness.

“Why are you awake?”

“Your stealth skills are almost non-existent since…” She touches her knee and Emma flinches. Yeah, that fucking knee is to blame for a lot of things: no quickies against walls or in the shower, no fast walking away from Hook’s stories about his date with Tink (and what followed), no playing football with Henry (or doing any kind of sport) and now driving with her bug, because she can only operate with an automatic gearbox, since she only needs her right leg to drive.

“Seriously, you thump like a little, sleepy elephant through the house.”

“And here I was aiming for a graceful T-Rex,” Emma bites back, not really offended by Regina’s words. She feels her smile more than she can see it.

“Just a few more months and Rumpel can try to heal it,” she tells her and kisses her knee.

Emma only hums in agreement. It’s not just her leg that keeps her awake. The worst thing are the nightmares. Sometimes she dreams of red eyes and flashing swords in her dreams, of great heat surrounding her and making it hard to breathe. She is reliving the moment where she gets injured over and over again, until Regina shakes her awake, looking at her with sad, knowing eyes. (She doesn’t want to think about the nightmares Regina once hinted at she had in her days as Snow’s step-mom.)

So many things changed. They had to pull Henry out of school, because it took two months for him to find back in some sort of sleeping pattern. After their to Storybrooke he was so afraid of his nightmares, that he would roam through the house during the night, and take a whole day long nap on the couch or, in front of the turned on TV to feel less alone in his room. (The TV was a gift from Rumpelstiltskin for his 12th birthday.)

A private teacher was hired two weeks post-Neverland, after Regina practically interrogated the two candidates that managed to get an invitation for the job interview and now Henry and Peter are taught by an elderly man named Sebastian, who refused to eat fish and sometimes told stories about Ariel and their adventures in the Enchanted Forest. (Emma still doesn't know how to politely ask him if he one was a crab.)

Both, Henry and Peter are seeing Archie at least once a week and sometimes Emma goes to his office as well, usually to calm her parents down. She likes Archie and she is grateful for his patience, but most of the time he doesn’t get her the way she wants him to and so his help is limited. It’s why she talks to Regina about her troubles, much to Snow’s discontent. (David is somehow dealing better with their relationship, he's just happy that Regina makes his daughter happy.)

Emma is only working part-time. She is still the sheriff, at least on paper, which means she’s sitting at the station, correcting David’s paperwork and taking it home, where Regina is scolding her for her horrible handwriting that looks “like she’s aiming for hieroglyphs than actual letters”, and then she ends up sitting next to Regina making fun of her immaculate handwriting. (Secretely, she is just super jealous, because _how_.)

Regina was reinstated as mayor after three months, since Snow told her to be destined for something that doesn’t require skills in calculating correctly the funds for the town. (Snow is working as a teacher again.)

“Do you want a hot cocoa? I could make you one,” Regina suddenly pulls her out of her thoughts, her hand resting on Emma’s hipbone. “Maybe that will help to fall asleep again?”

Emma pushes herself over the armrest of her armchair and allows Regina to put her arms around her, pulling her closer. “I don’t think a hot cocoa will distract me from my pain,” Emma whispers against Regina’s lips and it so easy to forget sometimes that they used to be something like enemies in their earlier days.

The former queen gazes at her, sighing. “I have to carry you to our bedroom again, don’t I?” She puts Emma’s leg aside and gets to her feet, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

“I am light as a swan feather,” Emma smiles lovingly at her while Regina pulls her to her feet, and kisses her nose, before touching her lips.

“Sometimes I ask myself how I ended up falling for you, out of all people,” Regina groans with a playful eye roll.

“Not everyone would put up with your snoring.”

“I could drop you, you know? It would look like an accident. The perfect crime.”

“Or with your murderous thoughts,” Emma adds, inhaling Regina’s hair conditioner. She smells like lemons and mint and her washing powder for her silky pajamas smells like lavender. It smells like _home_ , one that Emma loves more than she'd ever expected to.

No, that’s a lie.

She had been longing to fall in love with that feeling to finally belong somewhere, because in the first few weeks of dating Regina, she actually thought it would all go wrong after a short while, now that they had to deal with her injury, Henry’s nightmares and Peter’s jumping addictions. (One week he couldn’t stop playing a game on his phone called Flappy Bird and he got so mad at it one time that he punched a wall in his room and broke his hand. He had to wear a cast for two weeks.)

But they managed to deal with it and at the same time find something in each other that made them truly happy, comforted them on bad days or made them laugh when they actually felt like losing some tears.

No matter how deep the marks are that Neverland left on them, no matter how high the price for this happy ending was, Emma is glad where she is now, even if she has to use a cane outside the house or endure the pitiful looks from some citizens. (She asked Rumpel for advice which can she should pick, when she was at his shop to buy one. It's a simple wooden cane that she named August Booth. Because of reasons.)

Emma is half asleep when Regina lowers her on the right side of their bed. Right side, because it’s easier for Emma to get out of bed. (Easier in the sense of she can swing her good leg first out of bed, not in the sense that she’s suddenly a morning person.)

“That is so unfair,” Emma yawns and closes her eyes. “I was about to seduce you and then I am so close to fall asleep.”

Regina’s hand finds hers. “Good night, Emma.”

“Hmm, night.”


End file.
